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MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


TLd 


Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by 
CLAXTON, REMSEN & HAFFELFINGER, 
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 


STEREOTYPED BY J. FAGAN & SON, PHILADELPHIA. 


TO 

THE HONORABLE STEVENSON ARCHER, 

OF MARYLAND, 

IN TOKEN OF A FRIENDSHIP WHICH HAS 
BEEN AS PLEASANT AS IT HAS BEEN LASTING. 


Tii 




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PREFACE. 


I T would perhaps be near the truth to say, that, out- 
side of Louisiana and Texas, not a greater proportion 
than one in ten thousand of our citizens ever heard of 
the Gachupin War, which took place in the latter State 
nearly sixty years ago, and with which this story is 
intimately connected. Yet many of the events of that 
war are of the deepest interest ; and it may not misbe- 
come the author to state why, being of so much interest, 
they are not more widely known. 

One reason doubtless is, that nearly all the Ameri- 
cans who were engaged in it, fell on the different fields of 
battle. Then again, the war between the United States 
and Great Britain broke out simultaneously with this 
Gachupin war; in consequence of which coincidence 
the exciting events at home so absorbed the people and 
the press, that the fierce struggle which was raging just 
beyond our borders, commanded but little attention. 
The mails seldom penetrated into that wild and remote 
region; newspaper correspondents were exceedingly 
rare thereabouts, and newspapers themselves were al- 
most unknown within several hundred miles of the 
scene of operations. Events, therefore, were but mea- 
grely chronicled at the time. 

Moreover, it was then, as it still is, notoriously diffi- 

ix 


X 


P E E F A C E . 


cult to get out of those south-western border-men a con- 
nected and detailed account of their own exploits ; and 
as they were even poorer writers than talkers when they 
themselves were the theme, they have since dropped olf, 
one by one, without giving the public their experience, — 
until it is quite probable there is not now a single one 
remaining who served throughout that war. 

The above state of things, it is hoped, may serve, in 
some sort, as an apology for a larger proportion of his- 
torical matter being admitted into this story than is 
usually embraced in works of fiction not avowedly his- 
torical. There are only two notable instances in the 
volume of the author venturing to draw on 1^ imagi- 
nation to supply a hiatus existing in the records. One 
is the extraordinary conduct and the immediately fol- 
lowing, if not resulting, death of Colonel Magee, the 
commander of the patriot army during the first half of 
the war : (one account says he died of consumption — 
another, that he killed himself.) The other instance is 
the butchery, in cold blood, at San Antonio de Bexar, 
of fourteen prominent Spanish officers and officials who 
had been captured, and the trial of the perpetrators 
thereof. In both these instances of the author’s attempt 
to substitute invention for lost facts, it is hoped that 
the characterization of the individuals concerned is suffi- 
ciently consistent with their historical characters. 

A closing word regarding the title of the book. I 
had called it The Neutralians ; ” and still think this 
the most appropriate name it could have had. -But, 
with all the sensitiveness of a new author, I fancied 
that, if it should go forth so named, The Hub Bub 
Boo Exterminator” (published in Hub Bub Boo City, 


PREFACE. 


XI 


by Allgood, Nobad & Co.) might perpetrate a critique 
on it, beginning somewhat after the following savage 
fashion, to wit : 

‘‘ It is evident that this fellow is on a new trail: 
hence he very fittingly calls his book, ^ The Neutral- 
ians,’ — which is, indeed, about the only original idea 
in the whole volume.’’ And so on, and so forth. 

With this incubus of utter annihilation threatening, 
I was fain to change the title to ^^More Than She 
Could Bear.” To be sure, the aforesaid literary Mo- 
hawk may object even to this, Now, we don’t exactly 
know,” he may growl, how much ^ She Could Bear,’ 
as we merely glance at the books which we criticise, — 
but we do know that this story is More Than We Could 
Bear, if we were to try our ‘ level best.’ ” 

Well, we will let the second name stand, anyhow. 
Perhaps the savage may not think of this, after all our 
tremor cordis. Nay, peradventure he may not even deign 
to notice us at all ! 

H. B. 

July 9, 1871. 


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CHAPTER I. 


PAGE 


Neutralia and its Denizens 

. 

. 23 

CHAPTER 

A Convoy Discomfited . ' . 

II. 


CHAPTER 

The Tables Turned . > . 

III. 


CHAPTER 

Head in the Lion’^ Mouth 

IV. 


CHAPTER 

Vampires on the Body Politic 

V. 

. 56 

CHAPTER VI. 

How the Vampires are to be Choked Off 

. . ' 69 

CHAPTER 

“ Pistols and Coffee for Tavo 

VII. 

. ■ V 81 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Fleeing from the Gachupins 

90 

• CHAPTER IX. 

Neutralia’s Chief Sounds his Bugle 

. 97 

. CHAPTER 

Neutralians to the Rescue . 

X. 

. - 104 

CHAPTER 

After the Fight .... 

2 

XI. 

. 111 

xiii- 


xiv CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XII. 

The Cottage by the Lake 119 

CHAPTER XIII. 

The Chief as Host 126 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Sword and Gown in Conclave 133 

CHAPTER XV. 

Sweetness “ Wasted on the Desert Air ” . . . . 141 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Treachery Half Disarmed 149 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Canary Birds, and the Song they Sang . . . .161 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

The Padre at Fault ^ 169 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Sad Retrospection 179 

CHAPTER XX. 

A Heart Struggle 193 

CHAPTER XXI. 

The Chief as Guest 200 

CHAPTER XXII. 

Dissension in Camp Wildwood 214 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

One’s Love and One’s Country 224 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

The Green-Eyed Monster Rampant 234 

CHAPTER XXV. 

A Blessing in Disguise 244 


CONTENTS 


XV 


CHAPTER XXVI. pagh 

The Woman and the Girl 255 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

Billing and Cooing Extraordinary 267 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

A Ray for the Hopeless 276 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

The Ray Spreads and Brightens 285 

CHAPTER XXX. 

Dawn 295 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

“An Unco Mournfu’ Tale” 300 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

Bitter-Sweet 306 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

Love Entangled .312 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

Can You Blame Her Much? 322 

CHAPTER XXXV. 

Bruised Heart Makes Broken Tryst 327 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

Vain Longings 336 

CHAPTER XXXVir. 

Love to the Rear 340 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

A Falcon “Hawked at by a Mousing Owi.” ... 347 

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

Nemesis Stands Forth ........ 355 


XVI 


CONTENTS. 


GHAPTER XL. page 

The Blow Descends: Was it Fate, or Frenzy? . . 364 

CHAPTER XLI. 

Vultures Hover Near 374 

CHAPTER XLII. 

Bloody Beaks 381 

CHAPTER XLIII. 

Anxious Hearts in Neutralia 388 

CHAPTER XLIV. 

Tidings Fair, if only True 398 

CHAPTER XLV. 

AVhat Hope? 407 

CHAPTER XLVI. 

All Confessed — Half Forgiven . . . . . 415 

CHAPTER XLYII. 

The Dream that Knows no Waking 429 

CHAPTER XLVIIT. 

Late Remorse 437 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 

There may be matter in it. — Wmter'% Tale. 

I ^EW persons now living, except those in the immediate 
- vicinity, know anything about the history of a certain 
narrow strip of territory lying between Texas and Louisi- 
ana, which for fourteen years was designated as “The Neu- 
tral Ground.” Nay, few have ever heard of its existence; 
and yet, during a century and a half, many interesting 
events occurred within its narrow bounds, — all the more 
interesting, indeed, to such as are conversant with them, 
from the very fact that they are known to but few. And 
inasmuch as the events of this story transpired for the 
most part within its borders, it behooves me to treat of it 
here, so far as is requisite to the proper understanding 
of what I have to relate: although what I have to relate 
embraces but a year or two of its one hundred and fifty 
years of eventful history. 

The very name, Neutral Ground, essentially implies 
that there has been, between two or more parties, a dis- 
pute for territory, resulting in a compromise, temporary 
or other. In this case, the contestants had been Spain 
and France. According to the international laws agreed 
upon by European governments, and designed to have 
special application to discoveries made in America, there 
2 ^- 17 


18 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

can be no manner of doubt that France had established a 
clear right to all the territory thereabouts. By those laws, 
if any number of Europeans took possession of a coast, it 
gave the nation to which they owed allegiance an endur- 
ing right to all the territory watered by streams disem- 
boguing along that coast, even to their minutest ramifica- 
tions and their fountain-heads. 

Robert Cavalier, a bold knight of Normandy, in France, 
and commonly known as La Salle, left Canada in the year 
1682 with a few companions, and, reaching the head- 
waters of the Illinois, floated down that stream to the Mis- 
sissippi and thence to the mouth of the great river, — 
taking, as he went along, solemn and formal possession in 
the name of his most serene and most august Majesty 
Louis XIV. 

That monarch was so well pleased with La Salle’s ex- 
ploit — which the latter took precious good care to report 
at the court in person — that he fitted out for him a fine 
fleet, having on board several hundred colonists, that he 
might extend still further the already magnificent posses- 
sions of France. Accordingly, in the year 1684, La Salle 
sailed forth, and in due time landed, though unintention- 
ally, on the coast of Texas. Here he established his col- 
ony and built a fort for its protection, which he called, in 
honor of his royal patron, Fort St. Louis. A few years 
afterwards he was waylaid and basely murdered by two of 
his own men, somewhere in the vicinity of the Neutral 
Ground, whilst engaged in exploring the interior of the 
country. 

By these various acts of settlement and exploration the 
whole of Texas, as well as Louisiana, became, beyond all 
question, according to the international law above referred 
to, the rightful property of the French king. 

On the other hand, the Spaniards claimed that some 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR, 


19 


“tall admiral” of theirs, a hundred years before, had 
caught a glimpse of that coast through his spy-glass, from 
the main-top, as he glided past with his fleet in search of 
the El Dorado. This ^fleeting title was all they had to 
urge. 

To be sure, after a few years, the fort which La Salle 
had built was taken by the Indians, and all the garrison, as 
well as the colonists, butchered, or carried off* into a hope- 
less captivity, leaving no French settler in all the land; 
while, soon after the massacre, the Spaniards brought from 
Mexico a few soldiers and friars, and established one or 
tw’o missions in Western Texas for the conversion of the 
wild Indians. In about three years, however, these mis- 
sions were abandoned, and for seventeen years Texas 
lapsed wholly under the aborigines. So that the original 
claim, made good by La Salle, had certainly not been 
invalidated up to that time. 

In the year 1714, Luis San Denis, a restless and daring 
Frenchman, was sent by the French Governor of Louisiana 
to establish the post of Natchitoches, that country being 
then a wilderness. Leaving a few men at that point, San 
Denis proceeded, with about a dozen others, to the Kio 
Grande. Here he married a Spanish lady, and soon after- 
wards prevailed upon some of her relations to accompany 
him back to Louisiana, for the purpose of erecting a smug- 
gling-post east of the Sabine, the king of Spain having 
prohibited all manner of trade on pain of death. 

Along with these came other Spaniards, with the holier 
intention of founding various missions. And there, right 
in the heart of what was subsequently the Neutral Ground, 
smuggling and praying w^ent swimmingly on, side by side, 
doubtless aiding each other very materially. The post and 
mission were located at a place called Adayes, — from the 
name of the surrounding tribe of Indians, — fifteen miles di- 


20 


if O K K T II A N SHE CO U L 1) B E A K . 


rectly west from Natchitoches, and about the same dis- 
tance from the Sabine. 

Another post, and a mission, were soon established by 
the Spaniards near the present town of Nacogdoches, about 
thirty miles from the eastern bank of the same river ; and, 
indeed, throughout the southern and western portions of 
Texas the Franciscan friars re-established their old mis- 
sions and built new ones. From that time, Texas, al- 
though still rightfully — that is, by the law of nations — 
belonging to France, was virtually wrested from her by 
Spanish occupation. San Denis, to be sure, in 1719, drove 
the Spaniards from their post, at Adayes, and forced them 
beyond the Sabine; but they soon returned, escorted by 
the Marquis of Aguayo, Governor of Texas and Goahuila, 
at the head of five hundred mounted soldiers, and ever 
afterwards claimed jurisdiction for Spain as far as the 
Arroyo Honda (Deep Creek), in the eastern portion of 
the Neutral Ground, and only a few miles west of Natchi- 
toches. 

In 1761, France, finding herself fearfully prostrated by 
a long war with England, which had been brought about 
by boundary disputes in America, applied to Spain, her 
ally in that war, to protect Louisiana from British en- 
croachments, then threatening that territory. Spain being 
by this time reduced to a pitiable condition, was not equal 
to the task of guarding her own huge, crumbling fabric, 
much less could she afibrd to assume the dignity of a pro- 
tectorate over another’s dominions. She, thereforej respe(;t- 
fully, but firmly, declined the meedless honor. 

Accordingly, the French king, brought to still worse 
straits by the continuance of the war, ceded to Spain all 
his immense territory west of the Mississippi, from its 
head to its mouth, for the purpose, it would seem, of pre- 
venting its falling into the hands of the British ; for very 


m 


MORE TUAN SHE COULD BEAR. 21 

soon afterwards she was forced to cede to England all her 
possessions east of the river — out of which half a dozen 
powerful States have since been carved — and Canada into 
the bargain. 

At this time the entire population of Texas, leaving out 
the roving savages, did not amount to more than fifteen 
hundred, one half of whom were Europeans or of European 
descent, the remainder being converted and domiciliated 
Indians. 

The annexation of Louisiana to Spain wrought quite a 
revolution in this remote region. Nacogdoches, before but 
a missionary station, began to assume the appearance of a 
town; and by means of an increasing commerce the citizens 
amassed considerable wealth and improved in politeness. 
On the other hand, Adayes, which contained about forty 
houses, began to languish, and continued to decline until 
1790, when it was deserted by the whites; and as none 
remained but converted Indians, these were sent to some 
distant mission. On the whole, Texas, at the close of the 
eighteenth century, had advanced but little from her 
condition of eighty years previous. 

In the year 1800, Spain and France made a secret 
treaty, by which the former agreed to retrocede Louisiana 
so soon as the latter should have effected certain political 
changes in Europe redounding to Spain’s advantage. In 
the following year, France having complied with her part 
of the specified terms, the promised transfer was made, 
with the understanding, however, as there is good reason 
to suppose, that there should be no transfer of the same by 
France to the United States on any condition whatsoever. 

This retrocession was no doubt made, and this proviso 
inserted, by Spain, for the exprt>ss purpose of establishing 
a barrier between her own possessions and the United States, 
whose citizens she very much feared would infuse into the 


22 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


oppressed masses of Mexico the dangerous spirit of liberty 
that had actuated them to throw off the yoke of Great 
Britain, which could not compare in severity with the 
yoke which she herself was pressing upon the submissive 
necks of the Mexicans. In fact, when France had offered 
her this magnificent present, in 1762, she was for a time 
loth to accept it, for the very reason that its acceptance 
would remove the barrier, even then desired, but which 
subsequent events had made absolutely essential, she 
thought, to the retention of her colonial possessions. It 
was not long, however, before she began to look this huge 
gift-horse in the mouth ; and after a thirty years’ inspection 
she returned it as above stated. 

In 1803, Napoleon, who then ruled France, fancying he 
perceived certain signs that Great Britain, with whom he 
was at war, was about to pounce upon his newly acquired 
territory, came suddenly to terms with President Jefferson’s 
agents, with whom he had been higgling for some time, 
and through them sold Louisiana to the United States for 
the sum of fifteen millions of dollars. This act displeased 
Spain no little, inasmuch as it not only brought the 
pestilent Americans, whom she so much dreaded, in direct 
contact with her impressible Mexican population, but at 
the same time showed unmistakably that she had sustained 
a dead loss of no inconsiderable amount, which might as 
well have gone, a year before, to replenish her depleted 
coffers, as now those of France. 


m 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


23 


CHAPTER I. 

This place is famous for the creatures 
Of prey that keep upon ’t. — Winter’s Tale. 

Escalus. — What do you think of the trade ? Is it a lawful trade ? 
Clown. — If the law would allow it, sir ? 

Escalus. — But the law will not allow it : nor shall it be allowed in 
Vienna. — Measure for Measure. 

Though authority be a stubborn bear, yet he is often led by the nose 
with gold. — Winter’s Tale. 

I AM sorry I cannot begin my story with the impressive 
spectacle of the “Solitary Horseman.’^ Having, with 
the hope of accomplishing that very difficult artistic ar- 
rangement, racked my imagination even to a point at 
which I feared the effect of any further strain upon it, I 
am forced to abandon it, though very loth, and can only 
promise to come as near the genuine thing as my poor 
abilities and the circumstances that environ the case will 
admit of. Should I, however, at any future day trouble 
my gentle readers with another tale, I hope, by the assidu- 
ous culture of my aesthetic sense in the meanwhile, to 
produce the thorough-bred article, instead of the very 
mongrel affair to be now presented. 

About daybreak, one autumn morning sixty years ago, 
a Mexican, belonging evidently to the lower classes of the 
“ blanketed nation,’^ sleekly attired in so far as greasiness 
of apparel could constitute him so, and withal bestriding a 
very scrawny mule, trotted briskly into Natchitoches, 
which was at that time the only town on the western 
frontier of Louisiana. 


24 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


This man’s object was to convey to the commandant of 
the United States forces in the town a note, soliciting a 
detachment of his command to escort across the “ Neutral 
Ground ” a considerable train of pack-mules, together with 
their drivers and proprietors. 

This Neutral Ground was brought into existence about 
five or six years before, as a temporary compromise of 
those heated boundary disputes between the United States 
and Spain, which commenced soon after the former had 
purchased Louisiana from France, and continued for about 
a year, the United States claiming to the Sabine, the 
Spanish authorities declaring themselves unwilling to yield 
a single foot of territory west of Red River. 

This controversy had been carried on, with more or less 
asperity, for nearly a century, between the two European 
powers just named, so that the United States merely took 
up the matter at the precise point at which France had 
left it. 

In the year 1805 numerous outrages were committed by 
Spanish troops on American citizens within the territory 
claimed by the United States. A scientific party, sent out 
during that year by the President to explore Red River, 
was arrested by the Spanish authorities and sent home. 
On another occasion several Americans were seized a few 
miles from Natchitoches, and sent under guard three 
hundred miles to western Texas. Again, Spanish troops 
tore down the American flag, which was displayed a short 
distance from the town just named, and trampled it under 
foot^ All these insulting acts were perpetrated at points 
clearly within the limits of the new purchase, and could 
not be suffered to remain long unnoticed by the United 
States government. 

Accordingly, the commander of the United States forces 
in that region was ordered by his government to expel the 


n 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


26 


offenders, unless they could be induced to withdraw by 
peaceful negotiation. 

The correspondence which now passed between the re- 
spective commanders was spun out to a year’s duration. 
During this whole period the opposing armies confronted 
each other, and there w^as more than once imminent danger 
of a bloody arbitrament. Prudent counsels, however, in 
the end prevailed; and it was agreed that until the two 
contending governments should establish a boundary that 
should be mutually satisfactory, there should be a neutral 
territory not to be encroached upon by either party, except 
in certain extraordinary cases, wdiich were duly specified 
in the agreement, — an arrangement which soon received 
the sanction of both governments. 

The scope of country thus fixed upon to be kept inviolate 
was a wilderness almost entirely covered with timber. It 
extended from the Sabine, on the w'est, to a creek, called by 
the Spaniards the Arroyo Honda, on the east. 

This creek is the result of one of the many freaks of Bed 
River. It is projected from the parent stream just below 
the southern terminus of the Great Raft, and after spread- 
ing out into an extensive sheet of water, then and perhaps 
still known as Spanish Lake, courses sluggishly around in 
a sweep of some twenty miles, and re-enters the river just 
below the town of Natchitoches, thus forming quite a large 
island, on which that town is situated. 

Through the middle of this territory, and bearing nearly 
north and south, runs a slightly elevated ridge, which 
slopes very gently on either side, the western slope giving 
origin and passage to the numerous brooks which find their 
noiseless way to the Sabine, while the eastern declivity 
accommodates such as flow into the Arroyo Honda and 
into the other capricious wanderings of the great Red. 

From the Arroyo Honda to the Sabine — respectively the 
3 


26 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


eastern and western limits of this neutral territory the 
distance was about twenty miles. Its extent from north 
to south, in which direction the limits were rather vaguely 
defined, may have been about thirty miles, so that the 
whole territory may be said to have approximated in 
extent two counties of average size in the old States. 

The great road that led from Natchitoches directly west 
to Nacogdoches, which was then the only town of any note 
in eastern Texas, ran through the heart of the Neutral 
Ground. This part of the road was only a short section 
of the great thoroughfare running from Natchez on the 
Mississippi entirely through to San Antonio de Bexar in 
western Texas, and along which for nearly a hundred 
years had passed all the illicit trade that was carried on 
between the citizens of Louisiana on the one hand and the 
Spaniards and Mexicans on the other. 

No sooner had the exact nature of this transaction be- 
tween the two nations spread abroad, than adventurers of 
all kinds, and from all directions, flocked to the Neutral 
Ground. Their motives for this immigration were various. 
The fugitive from justice went thither, because, not having 
yet been able to find a country where the law suited his 
peculiar bent, he would fain seek one where there was 
no law at all. The would-be plunderer, w^hose feeble 
practical discrimination betwixt meum and tuum had thus 
far triumphed only by reason of the constantly overhang- 
ing terrors of justice, wxnt from much the same motive. 
The desperado went because he might reasonably hope to 
find there other desperadoes, with whom he could cut and 
slash, day in and day out, to his heart’s content. The 
romantic youth went, because his heated fancy had limned 
it forth in pleasing guise, such as it really was not. The 
stripling of ardent temperament, who had been reading the 
wild tales of Robin Hood, Dick Turpin, et id omne germs, 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


27 


went as the necessary consequence of such temperament 
and such reading. And, though last, not by any means 
least, some of Lafitte’s men, of all nations and of all grades 
of ferocity, sated probably with the monotony of Barrataria, 
at that time the great buccaneer’s headquarters, and being 
resolved to indulge in a little variety further in the interior 
of the country, deserted at once their leader and their old 
haunts, and flew to the novelties of Neutralia, as I shall 
venture to call this wild region. 

Some of the men composing this heterogeneous mass 
brought with them their wives, such as they were, and 
their mistresses, and there in the dense woods erected huts 
to shelter them against that genial clime’s few days of 
inclement weather. 

If these freebooters cultivated the soil at all, it was only 
to a very limited extent. They were such men as would 
rather die -by the hangman than live by the sweat of their 
brows. Thus established, they at once fell to work, like 
the earnest devils that they were, and drew their subsist- 
ence from the traders who, as before stated, passed over the 
great thoroughfare which bisected the Neutral Ground. 
Sometimes they only levied black-mail on them, and then 
let them go with so much as was left; but much oftener 
they would appropriate to their own use the whole avail- 
able property captured. 

All this they could do with a slighter degree of com- 
punction, — supposing such men to know of degrees at all in 
any matter of tbe kind, — from the notorious fact that the 
traders whom they plundered were not themselves engaged 
in a legitimate business, the laws of Spain positively inter- 
dicting, under pain of death, all kinds of trading whatsoever 
with citizens of the United States. This prohibition arose 
mainly from the fear that intercourse with a free people 
might finally engender among the ignorant classes of 


28 MO EE THAN SHE COULD BEAE. 

Mexico rebellious notions against that lawful sovereign, 
who, although he ruled them by “divine right,” ruled 
them with almost diabolical severity. 

This has been called “the oyster policy”; and as the 
trader was engaged in opening Spain’s oysters, the free- 
booter could see no great harm in snatching them away, 
when opened, from one to whom they did not really belong, 
and whom he regarded as in no respect better than himself. 

To be sure, the Spanish authorities just over the border 
winked at the unlawful trade thus carried on; but inas- 
much as it was well known that connivance w^as invariably 
purchased by the trader at no inconsiderable price, the 
freebooter might argue, as a salve to his conscience, if 
indeed his conscience ever chafed on such occasions, that 
this collusion, so far from mending the matter, only made 
it worse for the other side. It proved that the Spanish 
official’s moral record in the case was even more blurred 
than his own,‘ since he himself only fleeced the trader, 
while the official not only did this, but fleeced his sovereign 
to boot, and that, too, while professing for him the most 
“ intense loyalty.*’ 

Thus does man stray widely from the right path so soon 
as he repudiates the guidings of conscience. Once arrived 
at that melancholy point when he is fain to justify his own 
misdeeds by the mere citation of similar or even worse 
misdeeds of those around him, with the view of a comparison 
favorable to himself, there comes a speedy end to his moral 
sense. # 

These bold mosstroopers, though to ihe last degree im- 
patient of all the restraints of law, could not long en- 
dure the complete state of anarchy in which they at first 
found themselves, — every man acting for himself They, 
therefore, soon organized, by selecting a leader, who ap- 
pointed his subordinates, and established his outposts and 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 29 

lus headquarters, — the last not expected to be permanent, 
but to be shifted according to convenience, or as emergen- 
cies should arise. 

Their trespasses they confined almost entirely to Spanish 
and Mexican traders. In fact, there were exceedingly few 
Americans who followed here the vocation of trading, and 
these few scarcely ever suffered by such depredations, from 
the fact, that the government to which they owed alle- 
giance was held by the robbers in more wholesome dread 
than that of Spain. 

Soon after they had fairly begun to show their hand, the 
Spanish force, stationed on the west bank of the Sabine, 
crossed over and essayed the difficult task of expelling 
them from the neutral limits. Being, however, sometimes 
boldly met, and at other times ambuscaded amid the tan- 
gled growth of the country, with disastrous result to 
themselves, they gave over the attempt. 

At length, on some American citizens being maltreated 
at their hands, a detachment of United States troops was 
dispatched in pursuit of the offenders. But they were no- 
where to be found: the whole clan had vanished as effect- 
ually and mysteriously as if some Roderick Dhu had 
waved them back to their sylvan fastnesses ; and al- 
though the troops swept the whole territory, — burning 
their houses and fixtures, — they necessarily left the Ish- 
maelites themselves unscathed. 

Only a brief time elapsed before they were fixed as com- 
fortably as ev^, though not in precisely the same locali- 
ties, — the poor trader having meanwhile suffered even 
more than before their punishment; for now they had not 
only to provide for their present wants, but were also under 
the necessity of replacing their property which had been 
destroyed by the military; and it was on the traders’ posses- 
sions alone that they would deign to draw for this purpose, 
3 * 


30 MO BE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

The commander of the United States forces repeated 
this summary vengeance two or three times; but finding 
that their habitations, which were mostly of the flimsiest 
kind, sprang up again as if by magic, and were refitted 
and refurnished solely at the poor trader’s expense, he 
resolved to abandon the attempt, — at least as long as they 
should confine their irregular levies to citizens of other 
countries than his own; which, henceforward, for a long 
time, they were careful to do. 

Under these circumstances, the only method promising 
safety to the trader, was, to procure, at his own private 
expense, the services of an armed escort through the Neu- 
tral Ground. The Spanish troops, having already had a 
rather bitter experience in their several attempts to re- 
strain the free action of those redoubtable heroes, usually 
declined the honor of escorting, — unless, indeed, on such 
terms as the trader could but ill afford; the amount de- 
manded for their services, together with the bribe claimed 
by the corrupt Spanish official, for his connivance at 
smuggling — which it really was — being so exorbitant as 
not only to consume all the profits, but to encroach very 
materially on the capital invested. 

The only really available plan, therefore, left for the 
trader was, to apply to the United States commandant at 
Natchitoches for an escort. There were always some 
dashing young officers at the post, who were willing to 
undertake this business by turns, to relieve the monotony 
of garrison life on the frontier, as well as fbr the sake of 
the adventure, and the dangers with which it was spiced. 
These unsubstantial considerations were the officers’ sole 
reward; though it was usually understood that the trader 
should, to a reasonable extent, remunerate the men out of 
his profits. 

It may, however, be here stated, that neither the officer 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


31 


nor his men regarded the smuggler as occupying a place 
in the moral scale any great distance above the pirates, 
from whose clutches they volunteered to protect him ; and, 
in the event of a collision, it could hardly be expected 
they would show any great stomach for the fight, should 
there chance to be considerable odds against them, particu- 
larly if their proteges — as they almost invariably did — 
should take the precaution to hide their own precious bodies 
away in some safe place, while the exciting sport was being 
indulged in. 

The messenger spoken of in the commencement of this 
chapter, had made his ride across the Neutral Ground 
during the night w^holly from prudential motives. He 
well knew — as also did those who sent him — that the 
enterprising denizens thereof, should they discover him in 
transitu, would introduce themselves to him without form 
or ceremony, and force him to partake, for at least several 
houm, of their peculiar hospitality, of which they were 
exceedingly lavish so long as the fit was on theifi. 

Their usual mode of entertaining under such circum- 
stances was to commence with interrogatories, few' in 
number, but very much to the point. In case of recusancy 
on the part of the guest, he was suspended, first by the 
thumbs, then by the great toes, and finally, should these 
methods fail to bring out what they had good reason to 
believe was in him, by the neck. The queries propounded 
on such occasions usually related to transactions in specie 
or bullion, in the movements of w'hich these “bulls ” and 
“ bears ” of the forest seemed to take quite as intense an 
interest as do the corresponding city brutes of the present 
day, who, by the w'ay, for aught that appears to the con- 
trary, may be their lineal descendants. 

The Mexican rode up to a vacant lot opposite the com- 
mandant’s headquarters, and dismounting, hitched his mule 


32 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


and disburdened him of the huge saddle. Rightly judging 
that there was no hope of seeing, at so unseasonable an hour, 
the functionary whom he sought, he next set about eating 
his breakfast, his night-long ride having doubtless given a 
keen edge to his appetite. This breakfast consisted of a 
few tortillhs, as the Mexicans call them, a peculiar sort of 
corn-cake, heavy and unsavory, which he fished from his 
pocket. 

The mule, whose appetite may well be presumed to have 
been quite as keen as his rider’s, not getting anything to 
eat now, and apparently expecting nothing until he should 
get back to the Sabine, some thirty miles distant, quietly 
lay down to take a rest. His master soon followed his 
example, curling himself up on his blanket, which he 
spread near the patient quadruped, using the saddle as a 
pillow. So there, side by side, the one having had nothing 
at all to eat, the other as near to nothing as may well be, 
they both fell asleep. The mule, like the true philosopher 
that he seemed, no doubt considered this, with the single 
exception of eating, — which was, in his own case at least, 
quite out of the question, — about as well as could be done 
when suffering the pangs of hunger. 

One of the most astonishing things to Americans who 
have sojourned among Mexicans is the small quantity, as 
well as the poor quality, of food which the lower classes of 
that people consume. They seem to be content and even 
to thrive on a diet that would bring an American to death’s 
door. This extreme temperance on the part of the Mexican 
results, doubtless, from his being too lazy to earn more by 
labor than will barely supply his physical necessities, 
while on the other hand there is no doubt that his more 
mercurial neighbor eats twice as much as is good for him. 

But while the abstemiousness of the Mexican man is 
astonishing, that of his humble servant the Mexican mule 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


33 


is little short of miraculous. He is caught feeding about 
as seldom as the august emperor of Cathay, and appears to 
live, like the ichneumon, by means of his lungs, — his 
stomach, if not an altogether useless appendage, being de- 
signed only as the receptacle of such articles as no other 
graminivorous animal will deign to touch. 

The Mexican was at length roused from his slumbers by 
the braying of the mule, who having risen from the ground, 
took this method of announcing his readiness to go back 
W the Sabine and get his breakfast. 

The sun by this time was two or three hours above the 
horizon, and the man, starting to his elbow at the discordant 
^und made by the animal, and seeing the commandant’s 
office open, gave a great yawn, rose to his feet, shook him- 
self, donned his ragged sombrero, and with his long matted 
hair standing out from beneath it in every direction, walked 
lazily across the street and disappeared within the open door. 


CHAPTER II. 

Sir, we are undone : these are the villains 
That all the travellers do fear so much. 

Two Gentlemen of Veroyia. 

If this letter move him not, his legs cannot . — Twelfth Night. 

His incensement at this moment is so implacable that satisfaction 
can be none but by pangs of death and sepulchre . — Twelfth Night. 

A mong the officers of the Natchitoches garrison at 
this time, the fall of 1811, was Lieutenant Augustus 
Magee, who is said to have been remarkable for his military 
talents, as well as for his energy of character and his in- 


34 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR, 


trepidity. Happening to be in the office when the com- 
mandant read the note which the Mexican handed him, 
asking for an escort, the lieutenant forthwith volunteered 
to undertake the service. His offer was at once accepted ; 
and in less than an hour he was galloping westward from 
the town, followed by half a dozen soldiers, together with 
the bearer of the note, who, despite his vigorous efforts to 
urge on his lank and graceless Rosinante — with the vision 
constantly before him of the grim outlaws that might cut 
him off should he fail to keep pace with the rest, — was 
obliged to fall far to the rear. 

The lieutenant found the Mexicans bivouacked at a 
place called Salitre Prairie, on the Spanish side of the 
Sabine. Next morning at an early hour he started with 
his convoy for Natchitoches. 

There was one piece of information regarding this convoy 
of which Magee was not apprised, — the great amount, name- 
ly, of silver which was stowed away upon its dozen aparejos, 
or pack-saddles. It would no doubt, as the matter ended, 
have been greatly to the interest of the traders had they 
imparted this secret to the commandant; for in that case 
Magee would most probably have brought with him a 
much more numerous escort. But it was a part of their 
standing policy to let no such precious secrets leak out, not 
even to the arrieros, or muleteers, who accompanied them 
throughout the entire route. On the contrary, lest such 
rumor might reach the acute ears of the Neutralians despite 
all honest precautions, they did not hesitate, when approach- 
ing the dangerous locality, to resort to downright lying, 
letting drop certain expressions, as if by sheer accident, to 
the effect that their commodities were of unusually poor 
quality. 

It is nevertheless true that the men of The Neutral 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


35 


Ground generally knew, in spite of these precautions, or 
perhaps sometimes by reason of them, when anything pro- 
mising much in the way of booty entered their territory. 
Peradventure they had the same kind of “instinct’’ with 
regard to it which enabled Falstaff to recognize the dis- 
guised prince. So often, indeed, did they pounce upon the 
silver-laden trains, to the neglect of the less valuable ones, 
that it would seem the traditional “little bird,” which at 
times favors even the most abandoned of human beings, 
had had his eye on the treasure from the time it was dug 
out of the bowels of Mexico until it reached their borders, 
when he would fly across and sing to them — not in green- 
backs, but — in silvery notes, on which hint they would act. 

Be all this as it may, the party had scarcely got one 
third the distance to Natchitoches before it was but too 
obvious that a transfer of the property to other hands had 
become indispensable. This transfer took place in an 
incredibly short space of time, within the horse-shoe bend 
of a little creek called La Nan. The officer and his men, 
sauntering leisurely along, perhaps with too implicit faith 
in the terror inspired by the great American name, had 
just crossed the stream. When the traders had fairly 
entered the heel of the horse-shoe, — a contented band of 
bj^^thers, surrounded by their worldly possessions, — a score 
of armed men suddenly advanced from the bank of the 
creek, and getting between the train and the guard in 
front, fired a few shots, though probably Vv^ith no intention 
of hurting any one, since no one was struck. 

Magee of course glanced back on hearing these ominous 
reports in his rear; and although he saw at once that he 
was greatly outnumbered by foes whose bravery he could 
not question, would have made fight. In fact, he had 
faced his men about with this view. Just then, however, 
he saw with chagrin every Mexican, instead of attempting 


M MORE TttAX SttE COULD BEAR* 

to use the arms with which he was amply provided, leap, 
or rather tumble, from his saddle, and throw himself flat 
and prone upon the ground,- — a course which, as the lieu- 
tenant had before heard, was habitually resorted to by the 
citizens of Mexico when surprised by robbers, and which 
is even yet an every-day occurrence in that country, the 
object of the peculiar procedure being not only to signify 
their entire submission, but also that they would not even 
so much as look at their plunderers, and consequently 
would not be able to identify them to the authorities. 

The brave officer, not a little disgusted by this come-put- 
your-foot-on-my-neck conduct of those who doubtless hoped 
even at that moment that he would defend their perishing 
property, as well as their miserable, cringing, crouching 
bodies, wheeled his horse indignantly, with a contemptuous 
expression on his face, and followed by his little squad, 
galloped back to Natchitoches. 

The robbers at once secured their plunder and hid it 
under the bank of the adjoining creek; and after declaring 
that their “bank of La Nan,” as they called it with grim 
facetiousness, v/as closed for the present, went on their 
several ways to await events. They very naturally sup- 
posed that the amount lost was large enough to excite 
vigorous efforts for its recovery, as well as for the punish- 
ment of the depredators themselves. Not the least of their 
fears was the apprehension that a crisis in their financial 
affairs might be precipitated by what they termed “a rush 
upon their newly established bank.” 

It, however, very nearly came to pass that these appre- 
hended efforts were not made at all. The Spanish author- 
ities affected to regard the whole responsibility — if, indeed, 
there was any responsibility attaching to the protection of 
unlawful trade — as resting solely with the Americans, 
who had undertaken the safe conduct of this particular 


MonE TttAX SHE COULH BEAR. 37 

treasure ; ‘ and that it was they, if any, who should make 
amends. 

On the other hand, the American commandant cared 
but little about the matter, — its only ugly feature being 
the precipitate flight of a United States officer without 
striking a blow; which, although really justifiable, under 
the circumstances, when fully explained, was liable to 
misinterpretation, unless redeemed by a return to the 
charge, or in some other way. He, however, regarded this 
question as entirely personal with Magee, whose courage he 
himself did not for a moment doubt. He simply thought 
that if his lieutenant could stand it, he could. 

Magee on his part, had been so utterly disgusted by the 
cowardly conduct of those whom he had deigned to take 
under the eagle’s wing, that the bare thought of returning 
to avenge their wrongs, or to restore their property, well- 
nigh nauseated him. He was fain to let the whole thing go 
just as it stood, and henceforth strove to dismiss it from 
his mind. The information which subsequently reached 
Natchitoches, of the immense amount of treasure contained 
in the packs, so far from bringing him regret for not 
having fought to save it, sent through his breast something 
very like a thrill of satisfaction that so much treasure had 
passed from such craven hands into those of men who, 
whatever their shortcomings, had at least bravery to re- 
commend them. ^ 

The whole matter was in a fair way to terminate just 
here. Unfortunately, however, a few days afterwards, 
IMagee, on entering his room, which fronted on the street, 
found, pushed under the door, a note, which he forthwith 
read, and found that it was to the following effect : 

“La Nan, Sept, ^d, 1811. 

“ Lieut. Magee : — As I have business in town to-day, I will 
write you a few lines before leaving for that point, so that, in 

4 


38 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

case I shall be prevented, by your absence, from conferring with 
you, I may leave at your office the substance of wbat I have 
to say. 

“If your valuable services can be spared by your Govern- 
ment, I should like, of all things, to engage them for a season 
in a business for which I know, from recent representation, you 
are peculiarly fitted. 

“We of the Neutral Ground, as you are probably aware, sup- 
port ourselves (quite liberally too — so you need not decline my 
offer for fear of non-payment) by contributions levied on those 
rascally smugglers who infest our territory, and even threaten, 
at times, to corrupt its morals. Now, if you will only contract 
to act as permanent escort to those yellow-bellies, we can amass 
fortunes off of them in a short time, and you shall go snacks 
with us. 

“ Having every reason to think you will accept my offer, I 
shall proceed just as though the bargain was closed betwixt us, 
and give you some wholesome instructions. When you are 
escorting a treasure of unusual value, on approaching a point 
which affords peculiar facilities for an ambuscade, be sure to 
push on with your guard a considerable distance ahead of the 
convoy, and, as soon as two or three of us show ourselves, take 
your sabre in your hand and your heart in your mouth, in- 
structing your men to do the same, and make off, quite out of 
the way, as if for dear life, — thus leaving the coast entirely 
clear for us to operate at our leisure. 

“ However, as I had the pleasure of hearing of your rare per- 
formances only a few days ago in this vicinity, which redounded 
so much to our advantage, any further directions could avail but 
little; and even those given above are perhaps superfluous. In 
fact, you played so beautifully into our hands on that occasion, 
that some of my boys make no doubt you expected the offer 
which I have just made you would follow as a matter of course. 
In other and plainer words, they think you acted as you did for 
the express purpose of securing said offer. I, however, choose 
to differ with them, and hope you will excuse me for saying, 
that I think it was sheer cowardice that carried you so rapidly 
from the scene. 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAU. 


39 


“ Had this not been my view of the case, I should never have 
ventured to make you this offer. We must have, for this busi- 
ness, such an arrant coward that he cannot possibly come up to 
the sticking point, however much his honor and his reputation 
may be staked on it; and I am convinced you can no more 
tarry in the face of danger, than night at the coming of the sun. 
So, you are the man for our money, — if, as I said before, your 
Government can only be induced to dispense with your valuable 
services. 

“ Hoping that you will soon report in person, 

“ I have the honor to be 

Your humble servant, 

“ Gatewood.'’ 

Report in person’?” exclaimed Magee, rising from 
his seat with tremendous energy. “ I will, by ! ” 

I omit the oath, in consideration of the fact that the 
lieutenant was but little addicted to the utterance of pro- 
fane language, — hoping that the reader, if he cannot quite 
pardon his isolated offence, will at least allow it to have 
been materially extenuated by the circumstances which 
called it forth. 

Magee went straight to the commandant. Without allu- 
sion to the letter from the lord of the Neutral Ground, and 
without betraying a' sign of any unusual excitement, he 
asked for twenty men, to do battle with the Ishmaelites. 
That functionary — although surprised at his request, now 
that the whole thing had settled down into comparative 
quiet — made no inquiry into the subject, but readily 
granted the detachment, with the additional favor that he 
might pick his men. 




40 


:SI0RE THAN SHE COULD BEAR, 


CHAPTER III. 

Seeing his reputation touch’d to death, 

He did oppose his foe . — Timon of Athens. 

I’ll be reveng’d on the whole pack of you . — Twelfth Night. 

Will either of you bear me a challenge to him ? — Twelfth Night. 

M agee got his men together that same evening; and, 
after explaining his object, and telling them they 
must expect no child’s play, gave orders that their arms 
should be put in perfect condition, and appointed the 
place of rendezvous, and the time of meeting at daybreak 
next morning. 

He met them at the hour named, and they started on 
their expedition. As soon as they were fairly beyond the 
outskirts of the town, he halted his little command at a 
suitable spot, and drawing forth the insolent epistle, read 
it to them without any comment whatever. In selecting 
his men, he had been careful to embrace all who were 
with him on the unfortunate occasion of which the letter 
treated. On hearing the contents of the communication, 
all were made very indignant at the charge of cowardice, 
which they knew to be wholly unmerited, and in very 
emphatic terms expressed their determination to prove the 
contrary, to the satisfaction even of the maligner himself, 
if they could but come up with him. 

It was not long before an opportunity — though not al- 
together a fair one — presented, for the relative test of 
mettle. After going a few miles, they met an unlucky 
pedestrian, who had been overhauled by the outlaws. 
They had robbed him, he said, of a valuable horse, but had 


MORE THAN SHE COUED BEAR. 


41 


taken nothing from his person. This man, an American, 
on learning the object of the expedition, became at once 
eager to guide the squad to the point where, about an hour 
before, he had involuntarily ceased to be an equestrian. 
He said there were about fifty of them bivouacked around 
a spring ; that they had no guards out ; and that they could 
be easily surprised. 

This was all very good news to Magee, and his men heard 
it with almost equal satisfaction. The Lieutenant would 
have preferred a less disparity of force ; for his intention 
was, if he could have met Gatewood with anything like 
equal numbers, to make a fair hand-to-hand fight, hoping 
himself to engage that redoubtable chief in single combat, 
and wash out, with his blood, the base stigma which the 
latter had essayed to cast upon his good name — or perish 
in the attempt. Inasmuch, however, as they so greatly out- 
numbered his force, it would have been sheer madness to 
attempt anything but a surprise, and that about as com- 
plete as it could be made. 

The very helpless condition in which the brigands, usu- 
ally so vigilant, were found, arose probably from the fact 
that they had every reason to think the retributive storm 
lately expected to burst upon them, had, by this time, 
blown quietly over. At any rate, so defenceless did they 
appear to Magee, when he first caught sight of them — 
strolling, and lying at random, about the woods, some 
talking and laughing, a few of them asleep, the greater 
part at a distance from their arms — that, although 
his first impulse was to order the discharge of a deadly 
volley into their midst, his feelings revolted at what 
seemed to be little better than a cold-blooded butchery. 
He therefore — in consideration, too, of their having for- 
borne to fire into his squad, at La Nan, under circum- 
stances somewhat similar, which they might easily have 

4 * 


42 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


done had they been at all blood-thirsty — after dismount- 
ing his men, ordered them to charge, without firing, unless 
there was fair prospect of resistance, — but to capture as 
many as possible. 

The freebooters were taken so completely by surprise, 
that they at once rushed off into the tangled growth 
around, every man for himself, — most of them without so 
much as taking their arms with them. About a dozen, 
under threat of'being shot down, stayed their headlong 
course and w'ere secured as prisoners. 

Had resistance been made, and blood shed on both 
sides, it is probable Magee would not have adopted the 
course which he now did. But so disappointed was he at 
not having a fight with these bandits, — but more espe- 
cially at the escape of their leader, who, after branding 
him as a coward, did not see fit to tarry long enough to allow 
him an opportunity to prove the reverse, — that, as a vent 
to his feelings, — or, perad venture, as a salve to them, — he 
ordered his men to strip the prisoners, tie them up to the 
various surrounding trees, and whip them in order to make 
them divulge the hiding-place of the stolen silver. This 
order the men obeyed with a will, hoping probably for a 
liberal share of the treasure. 

Whether this was justifiable or not, it was, to say the 
worst, only fighting the devil with his own weapons, — 
since this identical mode had often been resorted to by these 
same prisoners, when they were fain to extort disclosures 
of a kindred character from such wayfaring wfights as were 
unfortunate enough to fall into their clutches. 

This flagellation failing to elicit the desired information, 
he next, with the same view, directed a live coal to be 
passed along their naked backs divers times. Still they 
kept firm hold of their secret, not divulging a single scrap 
of information bearing in any way whatever on the question 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


43 


propounded; and although they made but little moan 
during the proceeding, threats of vengeance were written 
in black lines on their writhing faces far more clearly than 
if traced with ink. 

It must here be made known that the Lieutenant was 
not at all dilatory in his attempt to settle this little account 
with the freebooters. Knowing full well that, should he 
tarry long in these sylvan abodes, the tables might be com- 
pletely turned on him, — and that, too, with a vengeance, — 
he dispatched the business in hand with his usual energy. 

Struck with admiration, perhaps, at their unflinching 
fortitude, he thought at first of releasing about half of them. 
Considering it his bounden duty, however, to make a signal 
example of them in a more public way than he had already 
done by means of his improvised inquisition, he concluded 
to take them with him to Natchitoches, to be tried by the 
civil authorities. — Their trial soon resulted in their being 
safely lodged in the penitentiary. 

This little raid of Magee’s turned out much better than 
there was any good reason to expect ; for, although it was 
not the policy of the Neutralians to fight under ordinary 
circumstances, if they could well avoid it, yet had that 
officer found them on the alert, they would probably have 
worsted him in the conflict, even with equal numbers. 
They were a band of brave men — many of them reck- 
lessly so — who not only were well acquainted with all the 
intricacies of their stronghold, but who thoroughly under- 
stood that peculiar mode of fighting, since designated as 
bushwhacking, and with which — as it is not embraced in 
any work on tactics — neither regular soldiers nor their 
officers could be expected to be very conversant. 

Notwithstanding his triumph over the powers of the Neu- 
tral Ground, Magee continued to chafe under the charge 
of personal cowardice, which Gatewood had so insolently 


44 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


preferred against him. So that, a day or two after his 
aifair with the brigands, he indited to that leader a note 
of the following purport : 

“ Natchitoches, Sept, llth, 1811. 

“ Captain Gatewood : I did myself the honor to call on 
you the other day, to ‘report for duty,’ as you requested. 
Just at the precise moment, however, when I rode up to your 
headquarters, and had every reason to expect a warm recep- 
tion, you had such a press of business in the opposite direction, 
and started off at such a rapid rate to attend to it, that I found 
it impossible to come up to you, although I spared no effort to 
do so. 

“ Inasmuch, however, as I don’t think it well to allow my 
aspirations to be quenched by a single failure, I hope you may 
find it perfectly convenient to name to my friend, who will hand 
you this, a time and place when and where we may meet. 

“ Your ob’t serv’t, 

“Augustus W. Magee, 

“ 1st Lieut. U. S. A.” 

Here was a cartel of mortal defiance ready to be hurled 
at the grim chieftain of the Neutral Ground, who had the 
name among his followers of being the best swordsman 
and pistol-shot in the whole south-western country. 

The difficulty was now to get conveyance for the note ; 
for it may well be believed that few men would be willing 
thus to beard the lion in his den. Magee carried the note 
in his pocket a whole day, during which time he solicited 
several of his brother officers — separately and privately, 
of course — for a favor in that line. They all, after some 
initiatory hemming and hawing, intimated that he would 
be degrading himself to fight with a robber, whose proper 
place was the penitentiary; that he had better let the 
matter drop ; together with much other advice of the same 
tenor ; and invariably wound up by respectfully but firmly 
declining the honor. 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


45 


As a last resort, he applied to the second lieutenant of 
his company, whose interest it obviously was to bring the 
combatants together, since he would go up a step, should 
the other “ go up the spout.” This officer also refusing to 
act, even more emphatically than the others — perhaps for 
the very reason that it was his interest not to refuse — 
Magee became greatly exercised as to the course he should 
adopt. 

A day’s incubation over the matter, however, hatched 
out a plan, which, desperate though it seemed, he resolved 
to attempt at once. Relying upon the probability that he 
was not well enough known to Gatewood, or to any of his 
men, to be recognized by them, if disguised, — they having, 
so far as he knew, never yet seen him, except at a dis- 
tance, — he determined to deliver the challenge himself, as 
Lieutenant Magee’s friend. Accordingly, after cutting off 
his beard and much of his long hair, he put aside his uni- 
form, and donning citizen’s dress, set off, alone, in quest of 
his foe ; having first obtained from the commandant the 
necessary verbal leave of absence, with the gratuitous 
remark, thrown out as a blind, that he was going to take a 
little jaunt into the country, by way of variety. 


46 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


CHAPTER IV. 


Though I cannot be said to be a flattering honest man, it must not be 
denied that I am a plain-dealing villain. —Much Ado About Nothing. ■ 

My life upon’t young though thou art, thine eye 

Hath stay’d upon some favor that it loves. — Twelfth Night. 


I am glad at heart 

To be so rid o’ the business. — Winter^ s Tale. 


FTER a long searcli in that vicinity where the head- 



JLa. quarters of the bandits were reported to be, Magee 
came within full sight of the camp, at the same time that 
he was halted by a sentinel, whom he had descried from a 
distance, through the trees, pacing to and fro. 

This camp, called Camp Wildwood, embraced two or 
three dozen tents, pitched with but little regard to order, 
in the wood, at a point where it had been made open by 
the careful clearing away of the undergrowth. The men 
were engaged in all conceivable modes of both action and 
inaction. Some were lounging on the ground, sleeping, or 
smoking, or listlessly whiling away their time in the enjoy- 
ment of such day-dreams as might arise without any exer- 
tion on their part to beget them. One or two groups were 
sitting on their blankets, spread beneath the trees, betting 
excitedly over a game of poker, or seven up, — several by- 
standers looking as intently over their shoulders as though 
life hung on the result. In front of one of the tents a trim- 
looking youth was sitting on a log, sawing from a fiddle 
some “ double-quick ” tune, while two other men, his exact 
opposites in appearance, were hard at work on a “ ho- 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


47 


down,” kicking up in his face dust enough, one might sup- 
pose, not only to clog the instrument, but to choke the 
performer to death. Another musician, apparently more 
disposed to solitude, was sitting apart under a sort of 
natural bower fantastically formed by a trailing vine, in- 
dulging in flute exercise, the soft tones floating pleasantly 
in upon the discordant scene. One was kindling a fire, 
probably for cooking the mid-day meal, as a companion 
was slicing a few pieces from the fresh skinned carcass of 
a bear suspended from a limb near at hand. Here one was 
re-stretching the ropes of his tent, which had become too 
slack. Hard by him, another was tanning a deer-skin by 
the Indian process, — that is, by smoking it underground; 
a small hole being dug for the purpose. . Yonder, a half- 
dozen whooping, rollicking fellows seemed to be having a 
good time over a demijohn. They would now and then 
attempt snatches of song, but their tongues having become 
quite too thick for harmonious utterance, — if, indeed, 
when at their best, they had any music in their souls, — 
the attempt would end in a universal shout, intended prob- 
ably as a chorus, and the performers themselves being the 
judges, no doubt answering every purpose as such. 

Yonder move two young women, once pretty, doubtless, 
but having now a hardened cast of countenance. Each 
bears a rude basket on her arm, containing clothing for 
men, or some handiwork, the result of her own industry. 
They are the mistresses or wives of some of the men, and 
have just come in from the shanties, — where they are kept, 
a mile or two from the camp, — with the hope of selling 
these trifles. Though the men, as they sauntered along, 
were by no means choice either in their language, or in the 
substance of what they said, or of the jokes they cracked 
with them, their cheeks seemed callous, and showed no 
tinge of either shame or indignation. 


48 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


There were a few horses tied to limbs or saplings in 
various parts of the woods, while dogs of all degrees of 
hybridity, some the better and others evidently the worse 
for the mixture, were stretched about the premises, or were 
snuffing among the leaves for the remains of their masters’ 
last feast. 

Such was the varied scene of which Magee caught a 
bird’s-eye view as he passed along. 

“ I wish to see your leader,” said he, by way of reply to 
a stern demand from the guard before mentioned, for the 
watchword. “ I have some important business with him,” 
he added, seeing that his confronter hesitated. 

The latter now gave a shrill whistle, as he did so turning 
his face in the direction of an extensive area, where the 
undergrowth, not having been cleared away, was so dense 
that, at the distance of a few paces from the margin, it was 
impenetrable to the eye. Almost immediately a boy, in 
response, stepped from the edge of the copse; but on a 
mysterious motion of the sentry’s hand, and without a 
word being said by either party, he disappeared at the 
exact spot whence he had emerged. The guard then 
resumed his monotonous tramp up and down between the 
great forest-trees that surrounded them on all sides. 

Presently a dapper little man came forth from the in- 
terior of the thicket. 

“ If that ’s Gatewood,” muttered Magee to himself, as he 
still sat on his horse, “he ’s not much like the descriptions 
I have heard of him.” 

As this man drew near, there was displayed such a 
degree of energy in all his movements, and there was so 
much fire in his eye, that by the time he opened his lips 
to speak, his diminutive form had dilated to quite respect- 
able proportions. 

“Can I be permitted to see Captain Gatewood?” asked 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


49 


Magee in his impatience, while the other was still several 
steps distant. 

“I will report to the Captain whatever you have to say.” 

“That cannot be, since what I have to say concerns no 
one here but him and myself.” 

“Private matters, eh? and not to be intrusted to any 
one?” said the other, tapping his breast with his hand, — a 
motion which plainly said, “I am his next in command.” 

“Entirely private,” returned Magee, “and not to be 
entrusted to any one else whatsoever.” 

“Step this way, then.” 

The American officer, now dismounting, secured his 
horse and followed his guide, who led the way along the 
margin of the thick growth already referred to, without 
entering it. When they had gone about far enough around 
it to describe a semicircle, they came to a small opening in 
the mysterious hedge, which served as an entrance. Through 
this, and past the sentinel who guarded it, the guide made 
his way, Magee following close on his heels. From the 
interior all the brushwood had been cleared away to the 
extent of about a quarter of an acre, leaving enough of the 
hedgelike growth on the outer margin to screen the interior 
completely from the gaze of outsiders. 

A tent stood between two immense oaks, near a little rill 
which meandered on its noiseless way, while at the distance 
of about ten paces were two smaller tents, which seemed at 
the present moment to be vacant. 

Passing around to the front of the largest tent, past an 
empty hammock swung to the trees, they came abruptly 
on a man who was half reclining upon a bear-skin spread 
on the ground, with a dog beside him, and was intently ex- 
amining a file of newspapers, probably just received from 
“ the States.” He was habited in an elaborately embroidered 
suit of buckskin. On the approach of the two visitors, the 
5 


50 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

dog raised his head and uttered a low growl. On hearing 
this his master looked in the direction indicated by the 
watchful brute, and, perceiving the two so near, immediately 
rose to receive them. As he did so, his large symmetrical 
form was brought into full view; and it was evident at the 
first glance that he was a man of no common strength and 
activity, and withal, from a certain wiriness of build, that 
he possessed an endurance almost unbounded. His head 
was uncovered, and his hair, now in some disorder, was as 
black as the raven’s plumage, while his large eyes ivere 
scarcely less so. They were evidently such eyes as can 
express the fiercer or softer feelings at will, though on this 
occasion there was visible in them as yet a predominance 
of neither, but only a sort of cool indifference blended with 
some doubt, and it may have been with a very slight 
degree of surprise at the sudden intrusion. The general 
smoothness of his exposed brow, which was both broad and 
high, shoAved plainly that he had not passed his prime. A 
single deep furrow between his eyes indicated the occasional 
workings of the darker passions. These could probably 
have been read more clearly in lines around the mouth, 
had that feature been visible; but it was ambushed in a 
heavy moustache, while beard of a dark-brown color, very 
fine, and as glossy as silk, waved beneath it in great 
luxuriance, and completed the mask of the lower portion 
of his face. 

Magee’s guide, as soon as he had brought him fairly 
under the observation of the Chief’ withdrew ; and, as the 
beat of the sentinel who guarded the entrance was at a 
considerable distance, the brief conversation which now 
took place in subdued tones, could not be overheard. 

Gatewood motioned the stranger to sit down on a log, 
which lay near his bear-skin, and which, as it had been 
stripped of bark and squared on the upper side, was no 
doubt intended to serve as a bench. 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 51 

“ Thank you,” said Magee. 

Without, however, availing himself of the invitation to 
be seated, he drew from his pocket the note which the 
reader has already seen, and handed it to Gatewood, who 
forthwith commenced reading it. 

. During the short time of its perusal, Magee was engaged 
in wondering whether a tremendous explosion would fol- 
low, and if so, how tremendous it would probably be, and 
of what precise manner and with what result. 

As soon as Gatewood had finished, he raised his eyes, — 
which flashed a trifle, — scrutinized for an instant the face 
before him, and then quietly remarked, glancing again at 
the note : 

“ As Lieutenant Magee is guilty of an irregularity, in 
not saying here who his friend is, I presume he himself is 
no stickler for the code. I certainly am not. So, instead 
of writing a reply, I will just rely upon your letting him 
know that I shall be happy to meet him, with small 
swords, at the crossing of the Arroyo Honda, to-morrow, 
when the shadows are exactly with the road, which, there, 
runs directly east and west. I keep no time-piece.” 

Magee slightly bowed assent. 

“ For reasons best known to myself,” added the Chief, 
after looking down a moment, as though reflecting, “I will 
commit the further irregularity of bringing no second with 
me. In this respect. Lieutenant Magee can do as best 
suits him.” 

doubt not,” replied Magee, “these arrangements will 
meet with the Lieutenant’s entire approbation.” 

With a polite bow, Magee now took himself off; while 
the Chief, having returned the parting salutation in kind, 
lay down again on the bear-skin and resumed the inspec* 
tion of his late file — a treat seldom attainable on that 
wild frontier. 


52 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


•Scarcely had the officer turned his hack on the Chief’s 
headquarters, when he met, going in that direction, a girl, 
apparently not more than fourteen, who had at that mo« 
ment entered the opening in the hedge. She was attended 
by a very large dog, and seemed to be just 'from the woods, 
since she bore on one arm several wreaths of delicate wild 
vines, twined with exquisite taste, while in the other hand 
she carried a beautifully arranged bouquet of forest-flowers. 
The face struck him as being a very lovely one, yet so sad 
that he looked into it with a mingled feeling of admiration 
and pity. She w’as a brunette, of about medium height, 
with regular features and large dark eyes. Her long black 
hair, slightly wavy, completely veiled her shoulders and her 
back as far as the slender waist. Her person was arrayed 
with a good deal of taste, and she wore a gipsy hat. 

As they met, she shied a little from the path, and looked 
timidly up at the stranger from her soft eyes — he shying 
quite as far in the opposite direction, to avoid the for- 
midable looking animal at her heels, which, however, passed 
him in silence and without even deigning to notice him in 
any way. 

Being still but a few steps from the tent he had just 
left, he could not resist the temptation to look back and 
see how she would be received by the grim lord of these 
wild demesnes. He expected to witness a cold repulse, 
should she venture near him — though he did not for a 
moment suppose she would venture near him. 

Bhe walked carelessly up to his side and threw at his 
feet the wreaths and flowers she had gathered ; whereupon 
he half rose from his position, and putting his great 
brawny arm gently around her fragile form, drew her down 
by his side and kissed her, while she nestled her sweet 
face— : now beaming with smiles — in his broad bosom. 

“ Powers of the blest ! ” exclaimed Magee, as he went on 


MORE THAN SHE GOULD REAR. 


53 


liis way ; “ what a place for a girl ! and such a girl ! May 
heaven shield her, whether sweetheart, daughter, or wife. 
She is too much unlike for his daughter. And what could 
such a man want with a wife? Why he could n’t brook 

Hymen’s chains for a day. She must be . It makes 

me shudder ! God preserve her from harm ! from further 
harm, I mean. I already half repent of having challenged 
him. What would become of her, should he fall ? ” 

“ I got through with it pretty well,” thought Magee, as 
he mounted and rode off. “ I would rather, however, he 
had chosen pistols, though he has no advantage over me 
with the sword other than his great strength must give 
him. In skill of fence, I hold myself his equal ; and in 

activity, I . Look well to your laurels, man ! ” 

As Magee rode back to town, he congratulated himself 
more than once on his success in preserving his incognito. 

“ Had that savage recognized me,” thought he, “ I don’t 
suppose I should ever have been heard of again in native 
land. But with such a change wrought in my countenance, 
to say nothing of my dress, I don’t believe my best friends 
would know me at a little distance.” 

Such were his meditations as he entered Natchitoches 
about sunset. 

“Yonder comes Overton,” he continued, still in thought, 
as he saw the commandant coming down the main street 
of the town, taking his usual evening walk a little distance 
into the country. “I ’ll just test the matter on him'* 
“There I I was certain he would not know me.” 

By this time, they had fairly passed each other without 
a sign of recognition on the Colonel’s part. But the latter’s 
grave, imperturbable look — so foreign to the occasion — 
as he stared blankly into his intimate friend’s face, struck 
Magee in such a ridiculous light, that his gravity was quite 
upset; and although he was fain to pass on unrecognized, 
5 * 


54 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

he had to laugh, and that so loud as to draw the other’s 
attention. 

‘‘Why, Colonel!” he said, as they both now turned 
about, “ when did you learn to pass an old friend with all 
the concentrated solemnity of an owl ? ” 

“ Pray, when did you learn Proteus’s trick of trans- 
formation ? ” retorted the Colonel, as he recognized his 
subaltern, more by his voice than by any remains he 
could, even now, see of the original. 

“ But, Magee, what in the devil have you been doing 
out in this direction ? When you said you were going to 
take a little jaunt, I, of course, thought you meant east- 
wardly. I know you can have no further business with 
those Neutral-Ground folks ; and as for pleasure, I don’t 
exactly see how a man can ride, for pleasure, through a 
country where the fingers of two or three hundred such 
savages are itching for his scalp.” 

“ Oh, they would n’t recognize me, Colonel. At least, 
you have no reason to think so,” said Magee, with a laugh. 

“True,” replied the commandant, slightly echoing his 
friend’s mirth. “ But tell me, did you see any of them ? ” 

“Well, yes; but at such a distance, that I did n’t think 
it worth while to disturb them.” 

“ I should rather think not.” 

“ But by being absent, Magee,” the commandant went 
on, “ you have missed the news. The town has been in a 
ferment all day.” 

“ Why?” 

“ Why, just after you left, about a dozen refugees reached 
here, from Mexico. The revolution there has failed, for 
the time, — probably for all time, — and the rebels are 
flying from the bloody vengeance of the victors.” 

“ Do those who have reached here seem to be persons of 
any note? ” 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 55 

“Yes. One of them, Bernardo, was a general in the 
patriot army, I believe. He is certainly an untiring fellow 
in the cause. He has been here only a few hours, and I 
really think he has sounded all the officers of the post 
except yourself, touching their sympathies with the patriot 
cause. And he ’ll be after you, as soon as you dismount.” 

“Ah, we all have ‘sympathies’ with them, as you know.” 

“ Yes — and that ’s about as far as we should be willing 
to go. But Bernardo wants more substantial aid than that 
amounts to. A sprinkling of the Anglo-Saxon element in 
their armies is what is really needed; and he seems fully 
aware of the fact.” 

“ But, Magee,” added the commandant, — looking 
scrutinizingly at the other as though expecting to see in 
his face something he wished not there, — “who ’s fool 
enough to resign a commission under such a government 
as ours, for the purpose of accepting one in a cause that is 
going to pieces after a six months’ struggle? Be on your 
guard: he ’s a very insinuating fellow, and will spare no 
pains to seduce you.” 

With this parting admonition, the Colonel resumed his 
walk; while his lieutenant rode on towards the central 
portion of the town. 


56 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


CHAPTER V. 

From point to point now have you heard 
The fundamental reasons of this war. 

All ’s Well That Ends Well. 

Holy seems the quarrel 
Upon your grace’s part, — black and fearful 
On the opposers. All ’« Well That Ends Well. 

T he commandant’s prediction was fully verified. The 
close of the day found Bernardo and Magee in confer- 
ence at the latter’s quarters. The room was very large, 
and a rather shabby one. The walls were as innocent of 
pictures — even the commonest prints — as the windows 
were of curtains. There was no carpet on the floor of the 
apartment, and it was but scantily furnished with a few 
chairs standing about in disorder, while a small table, on 
which were a few books and some scattered newspapers, 
together with writing materials, occupied the centre. At 
opposite sides of this little table, the two gentlemen were 
seated. 

With the Lieutenant’s personal appearance the reader 
is already, in a measure, acquainted. Bernardo was a 
middle-aged man, much above the average size. His 
complexion did not indicate a pure Spanish descent, but 
a very slight mixture with some one of the darker races 
of Mexico. He had a remarkably intelligent face, and a 
graceful and easy deportment; was evidently a man of 
rare mental endowments, and on his address, the fascina- 
tion of his manner became at once apparent. 

They had probably been in conference for some time. 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 57 

“Now, General,” Magee was just then saying in his own 
tongue, — for Bernardo understood and spoke English per- 
fectly, — “ the matter stands thus : As the authorized agent 
of your party, you have proffered me terms more flattering, 
I must confess, than I could have expected. You have 
also stated, in a general way, the prospects of your party ; 
and, so far as I can judge, they seem to promise ultimate 
success. But before I can give up a position under my 
own government, on which I depend for a livelihood, 
and which affords me many opportunities for scientific 
advancement, as well as other important advantages, it is 
but natural I should require a more detailed account of 
your affairs. And, first of all, — is your came a good one? ” 

“If there ever has been a good cause, sir, since the. 
creation of the world,” replied Bernardo, with enthusiasm, 
“oitrs is a good one. The tyranny of Spanish rule in 
Mexico, though it may have been paralleled, has certainly 
never been exceeded. But, that you may fully understand 
our grievances, suppose I recount them.” 

“By all means, do so. General. I have paid but little 
attention to events in your country; and, in common with 
thousands of my fellow-citizens, know almost nothing about 
the policy pursued by Spain towards her American colonies.” 

Bernardo then proceeded to give an account of the wrongs 
which Mexico had suffered for many years at the hands of 
the mother country. Inasmuch, however, as he entered 
into the full details of the matter, his recital would occupy 
entirely too much space to be given, verbatim, in a novel. 
I shall therefore content myself — and will, no doubt, by 
doing so, better satisfy my readers — with citing from the 
most reliable historians (mainly from Kennedy and Yoakum 
— the former an Englishman) such information on the sub- 
ject as I deem essential to the intelligent perusal and pro- 
per appreciation of this story. These two writers, who 


58 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


depicted the lamentable condition of things forty and fifty 
years, respectively, after they occurred, will not be so 
obnoxious to the reader’s suspicion of magnifying the 
wrongs of the Mexicans as would Bernardo, fresh as he 
was from the horrible scenes of butchery and general 
diabolism enacted by the now triumphant royalists. 

First, as regards the form of government. 

“The Viceroy was at the head of the colonial govern- 
ment. He derived his commission immediately from the 
throne. The Council of the Indies, which sat at Madrid, 
and over which the king was presumed to preside — though 
he was seldom present in person — ruled the colonies ab- 
solutely in all branches of government, — military, ecclesias- 
tical, civil, and commercial; that is, in all cases where they 
chose to exercise jurisdiction. These instances were, how- 
ever, comparatively few ; and its control was therefore 
mostly nominal, nearly the whole management of Mexican 
affairs being left to the colonial machinery. And this was 
of the most despotic character. 

“The highest tribunal w’as the Real Audeneiaj or Royal 
Court, — a sort of legislative body, of which the viceroy 
was president. Its sessions were held in the city of Mexico. 
In each intendancy, or province, — of which there were 
seven in all, — was an inferior audencia. These courts 
were composed entirely of generals and bishops, all of 
whom were natives of Spain, and in whose selection the 
people had no voice whatever. Such government as these 
mixed and ecclesiastical military tribunals chose to give 
them, was all they had. 

“In the town and villages, the offices of alcalde, or mag- 
istrate, and regidor, or chief, composed the ayuntamiento, 
or municipal council. These offices were mostly auctioned 
off, and the proceeds went into the royal treasury. Some- 
times they were conferred as a reward of military service, — 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


69 


the captain being made perpetual alcalde; the first and sec- 
ond lieutenants, regidores. The sergeant, or, in his absence, 
the corporal, or in his absence, some private, was made 
procurador, or town-clerk. As these were the only courts 
of petty jurisdiction, a corpora), or private sometimes, ad- 
ministered justice in villages composed of respectable pro- 
prietors — the audencia of the intendancy, the only tribunal 
for appeal, being often at a great distance, and a resort to it 
being always uncertain and vexatious, to say the least, even 
should just claims be established. Should an appeal fail 
to establish one’s claims, however, he was ruined 1^ the 
immense expense which it necessarily involved; the fees 
and perquisites wrung from every litigant by the govern- 
ment vampires being enormous. 

“ Mexico, in common with the other American colonies 
under the Spanish yoke, was enfeebled and barbarized by 
many years of profligate misrule. Corruption and pecula- 
tion rioted openly in every department of the government, 
and clung to every branch of the executive, from the 
representative of the king to the meanest dependant of the 
customs. The fact that there were government offices to 
which no salary was attached, speaks volumes. Every 
office was publicly sold, with the exception of those that 
were bestowed upon court-minions as the reward of dis- 
graceful service. Men destitute of talent, education, and 
character, were appointed to offices of the greatest respon- 
sibility in Church and State ; and panders and parasites 
were forced upon America to superintend the finances, and 
preside in the supreme courts of appeal. For the colonists 
there was no respite from official bloodsuckers. Each suc- 
ceeding swarm of adventurers, in their eagerness to indem- 
nify themselves for the money expended in procuring their 
places, increased the calamities of the provinces already 
wasted by the cupidity of their predecessors. Truly might 


60 


MORE THAN SHE COULD REAR. 


the Hispano'American exclaim, ‘ That which the palmer- 
worm hath left, hath the locust eaten; that which the 
locust hath left, hath the canker-worm eaten ; and that 
which the canker-worm hath left, hath the caterpillar 
eaten.’ 

“ The government strove by all the means in its power, 
and by every restriction that could be invented, short of 
driving them to desperation, to keep up the dependence of 
the people of Mexico upon the mother-country. The 
thousand ore-banks were forbidden to be touched. The 
innuAierable herds of sheep were virtually forbidden to be 
shorn. Olive-orchards and vineyards were laid waste as 
soon as their existence was reported by the hordes of gov- 
ernment spies that infested every nook and corner of the 
land, because, forsooth, all these things would have been 
brought into competition with those sent across the ocean 
by the pampered Croesuses of Spain. 

“ But of all the countless wrongs inflicted upon the 
Mexican people, the hardest to bear was the practice, con- 
tinued for three centuries, of conferring all the lucrative 
offices on the hated Gachupins.” 

The original meaning of this term was simply, a native 
of Spain. In addition to this, it soon came to signify in 
the mouths of Mexicans, a cheat, — a thief, — a liar, — in 
short, it included almost every human attribute that was 
particularly mean ; and in that sense was applied to such 
as, born in the mother-country, flocked to New Spain to 
live at the expense of Mexican Creoles. In other words, 
more easily understood by the reader of the present day, 
the Gachupins were the carpet-baggers of Mexico. 

“ Persons having no root in the soil were selected over 
those having ties of interest and kindred, in order to advance 
the dignity and aggrandizement of the mother-country. 
These Gachupins owned nearly all the wealth and wielded 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


61 


all the territorial influence. Of the one hundred and sixty 
viceroys, and five hundred and ninety captain-generals, 
governors, and presidents of the Real Audencia, only 
eighteen were born in the country, and these were all 
reared and educated in Spain, and were appointed in 
European interests. Judges of the Audencias were always 
of European .birth. 

“ All the prizes in the church, the army, the navy, as 
well as all the facilities for wealth and commerce, were 
clutched by the privileged caste. In vain did Creoles try 
to bring offenders of that class to justice. So far was this 
blind worship of native Spaniards carried, that the son of 
Spanish parents, born in Mexico, was held by his own 
father inferior to his European book-keeper. 

“ The fears of the tyrants lest the fires of revolution 
should be lighted, was so great, that by the laws of the 
Indies, which governed the supreme courts of Spanish 
America, it was made a capital crime for a foreigner to 
enter the territory without a special license from his Cath- 
olic Majesty; and so particularly apprehensive were they 
of the influence of citizens of the United States, that the 
captain-general of one of the internal provinces declared 
that, if he had it in his powder to do so, he would prevent 
the very birds of the air from crossing the borders, lest 
some of the dreaded liberal principles might be concealed 
in their plumage and be diffused among the masses. 
Texas, one of the most lovely and most fertile countries on 
the globe, had hitherto been purposely kept as a wilderness, 
and even worse, that she might present a repulsive barrier 
between the Anglo-Saxon and the people of Mexico. The 
missions which were planted in Texas nearly a hundred 
and fifty years ago, under sanction of the government, by 
vagabond friars, aided and protected from the savages by 
the most abandoned of the Spanish soldiery, maintained 
a 


62 


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themselves until recently by the labors of the wretched 
Indians, whom they dragged from their haunts in the 
forest or prairie. Under the pretence of bringing them into 
the fold of the Church, they kept them in the most abject 
slavery ; not only forcing them to constant labor for the 
benefit of their lazy masters, but wringing from them, by 
torture, an abjuration of their own religion, and a con- 
formation to the rites of the holy Catholic Church. No 
officer or soldier could marry but by special license from 
his sovereign, and this the priests could easily turn into an 
interdict. This enforced abstinence from wedlock by 
all — priests, of course, included — prevented lawful in- 
crease, and produced, instead, a mestizo population. These 
communities of expatriated friars, unprincipled soldiers, 
enthralled and savage Indians, with the motley offspring 
of Mexican licentiousness, was well adapted to keep Texas 
a barrier against the Anglo-Saxon.’’ 

But, with all these precautions, Texas could not be for- ; 
ever kept in the condition of a wilderness to serve a tyrant’s i 
purpose. And in the last year of the eighteenth century, | 
came Nolan and his companions to prepare the way for 
better times. 

Philip Nolan was an adventurous American, who was 
engaged ostensibly in bringing wild horses from Mexico 
and Texas, and disposing of them in the United States, — 
having obtained from the Spanish Governor of Louisiana 
the proper permit for that purpose. But that was a very 
small part of Nolan’s object. It was, in fact, only a cloak 
to the chief end he had in view — to diffuse liberal notions 
among the Mexican masses, and to make ready the way 
for a revolution, which was to be inaugurated by a force 
from the United States, as soon as the malcontents in 
Mexico could be fully apprised of, and prepared for, the i 
project. With a choice band of about twenty, he waa 
engaged for several years in this dangerous business. 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 63 

At length, in 1800, after sowing the seeds of liberty 
broadcast over a large portion of the land, his plans were 
divulged by some traitor. An overwhelming force was 
sent against him, and although surrounded on all sides, he 
made a gallant defence, in which he was slain. Several 
of his comrades were executed. The remainder, ten or 
twelve in number, were sentenced, some to dungeons ; others 
to hard labor, for life, in mines in the interior of Mexico ; 
and such of the latter as were living at the time of our 
story, were supposed to be still at work in those dreary 
caverns ; the former, perhaps more fortunate, it was thought 
had perished long ago behind their hideous grates. But 
of these more anon. 

Their brave leader was resting in his prairie grave, while 
the active ferment which he had insinuated was leavening 
the whole lump. 

Nolan has, by many, been regarded as an unscrupulous 
adventurer, actuated solely by selfish motives. By them, 
his main object is represented as having been to amass a 
fortune, — or to make a name by Kis wild exploits. But 
whatever the incentive which moved him, his elforts tended, 
at least, to rouse the apathetic Mexicans to a sense of their 
degradation, and to enlighten them as to the means necessary 
for their regeneration. He may have been ambitious; he 
may even have been selfish; I do not know, — no one but 
his God can know at this late day, — and I choose, there- 
fore, to cherish his memory as that of the earliest martyr 
to the disenthralment of the lovely and fertile province 
of Texas, from the heaviest tyranny that ever enchained a 
people. 

For several years after Nolan’s death, emissaries were 
secretly sent from the United States, by those who were 
then maturing a scheme for the invasion of Mexico, with 
the view of wresting it from Spain, and, it has been thought, 


64 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


erecting it into a separate empire. In 1807, this scheme 
was brought to an abrupt termination by the arrest and 
trial of Aaron Burr, its acknowledged head. 

But a potent element in the body politic of Mexico — 
an element which had hitherto remained passive — was 
about being exercised in favor of freedom. This powerful 
accession to the liberal cause was the inferior priesthood. 
Mexico was, at this time, divided into four archbishoprics; 
these were subdivided, each, into several dioceses ; and 
these into innumerable cures and deaconries. All these 
orders were accountable to the High Court of Inquisition 
in the capital, which issued edicts against heresies and im- 
pious doctrines, both religious and political. 

In accordance with the universal proscription of the na- 
tive-born, all the higher church dignitaries, without excep- 
tion, were selected from European Spaniards. In fact, 
from the Archbishop of Mexico, whose salary amounted to 
one hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year, down to 
those who received a sum barely sufficient for their com- 
fortable support, there was scarcely a Creole ecclesiastic. 

These last were to be found in every little village, or 
hacienda, or collection of wretched hovels, in the vice- 
royalty. From their wide dispersion among the masses, 
together with the almost unbounded influence which each 
one wielded over his small flock, whether for good or ill, it 
may be readily conceived that their concerted agency, if 
it could be brought about, would be no mean aid to any 
cause. 

These inferior priests, though mostly well educated, and 
many of them, in every respect, far more competent than 
those above them to fill high offices in the church, led, for 
the most part, wretched lives. Having no fixed salaries, 
they were obliged to depend, for their support, on the pre- 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


65 


carious proceeds derived from burials, baptisms, and mar- 
riages, among their flocks, — loving enough, perhaps, and 
willing enough to contribute what they could to the sup- 
port of their ghostly advisers, but already so impoverished 
by oppressive taxation, and by the extortions of unscru- 
pulous officials, that they could scarcely procure for them- 
selves and their miserable children and superannuated 
parents that which would keep alive the vital spark, and 
cover their nakedness. 

It may therefore well be believed that these priests often 
suffered for the necessaries of life, and were obliged to go 
in rags. Nor could they see any hope' of relief from this 
pitiable condition, — on the contrary, they too well knew 
that, like those who had filled the sacred post before them, 
there would be no respite even in their old age, save only 
such as death would afford them. It is no matter of 
wonder, then, that many of them were soured in their 
tempers, and alienated from a government to which one 
half their sufferings were due, and from an ecclesiastical 
polity to which the other half were justly chargeable. 

The crisis soon came ; and, to the surprise of all, the 
man who first raised the standard of revolt was a priest, — 
Don Miguel Hidalgo, curate of Dolores, in the province of 
Guanaxuato. This man, though possessed of sound judg- 
ment, was by no means a genius. It was a terrible risk to 
run. Such hazardous attempts, with their fearful respon- 
sibility, usually fall to the lot of some military genius, long 
accustomed to handle a well-disciplined army, and even 
such leaders as he often lose their heads. 

But here was an obscure priest, unknown beyond the 
narrow bounds of his curacy, ignorant of the first rudi- 
ments of military science, without a dollar in money, and 
destitute of arms, ammunition and supplies, undertaking to 
excite a whole nation, half stupefied by a long and rigorous 
6 * 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


bondage, to rise up against their oppressors, who possessed 
all the usual means and appliances of war, as well as of 
oppression. It looked like a desperate throw of the die : 
it looked, indeed, like the wild scheme of a madman ; and 
the fact that, in the face of all these disadvantages, the 
revolt came so near triumphing, in a few brief months, 
shows how fearfully in earnest must have been the masses 
in striving to cast off the tyranny which had been so long 
grinding them, body and soul, into the dust. 

Making known his intentions to his three most intimate 
friends, Allende, Aldama, and Abasolo, — all of them 
captains in a royal cavalry regiment in an adjoining town, 
— he took the field, inscribing on his banner, “For the 
protection of religion and the redress of wrongs.’^ 

He next declared for the abolition of the odious Indian 
tribute ; and in a short time, thousands of that race flew to 
his standard ; nor had they forgotten the revolting tortures 
and the wholesale murdem practised upon their unoffend- 
ing ancestors by the Spaniards. Only a few days elapsed 
before he captured Guanaxuato, a city containing eighty 
thousand inhabitants. Here he possessed himself of five 
millions of the public funds. He remained here only long 
enough to arm and equip his army, which as yet was but 
little better than a mob, — a large portion of them being 
armed only with clubs, stones, slings, bows and arrows, 
axes, and machetas, or heavy swords. 

About the middle of October, 1810, Hidalgo, at the 
head of an immense host of Creoles, Mestizoes, and In- 
dians, started for the capital, overthrowing everything in 
his march. Tow^ards the last of the same month, he 
reached Toluca, thirty or forty miles from the city of 
Mexico, and moved up, soon afterwards, almost to its 
suburbs. 

The authorities were thrown into the utmost consterna- 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR, 


67 


tion. Venegas, the viceroy, had only two thousand men 
to defend the city, while his two principal generals, Ca- 
dena, at Queretaro, and Calleja, at San Luis Potosi, w^ere 
at so great a distance that he could hope for no aid from 
them. Had Hidalgo taken immediate advantage of this 
confused state of things, and moved boldly on the city, 
teeming with malcontents, it must certainly have fallen 
into his hands. Such was Allende’s advice to him, He, 
however, remained here in a vacillating state of mind for 
two or three days. 

Meanwhile the crafty viceroy, well knowing with what 
material he had to deal in the superstitious masses who 
followed Hidalgo, caused him and his principal generals to 
be solemnly excommunicated, and a special curse to be pro- 
nounced upon them by the High Court of the Inquisition 
of Mexico. 

These awful tidings he found means to circulate through- 
out the patriot army. The chief himself, unawed by the 
dread anathema, hurled back a defiant reply, in the name 
of the holy cause which he represented, and had it read to 
his army as an antidote to the fulmination of his enemies. 
Despite all this, however, his benighted host were over- 
awed by the threats of divine vengeance. They mur- 
mured — they wavered — many of them seemed about to 
breakout into open mutiny — unless he would withdraw 
from the city which, they said, had been taken under the 
special care of heaven. In accordance with their wishes, 
he now commenced his retreat. 

Cadena and the bloody monster, Calleja, made forced 
marches, and, coming up with Hidalgo, at Aculco, defeated 
him ; then, again, at Guanaxuato, Ihe scene of his first 
exploits; and, in January, 1811, near Guadalaxara. 
Thence he retreated, pursued by Calleja, to Zacetecas, 
and thence to San Luis Potosi, — his object being to pass 


68 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


by way of Saltillo, to the borders of Louisiana, where he 
intended to remain for a while, hoping to get substantial 
aid from the United States and renew his attempt at 
revolution. 

Salcedo, the captain-general of the north-eastern pro- 
vinces, dispatched a force to cut him off in the direction 
of Saltillo, while Arredondo followed hotly in his rear. 
But at Acatita de Bajan, in the month of March, 1811, he 
was basely betrayed by Elisondo, one of his chief officers. 
Many of the leaders were executed on the spot. Others, 
who had scattered, were slain wherever found. 

Hidalgo himself was taken to Chihuahua, and put to 
death on the 27th day of July, — meeting his fate with 
great coolness and bravery. 

There were also executed at Chihuahua, at various 
times, from the first of May to the last of July, Allende,- 
generalissimo ; Aldama, lieutenant-general ;.Ximenes, cap- 
tain-general and governor of Monterey ; besides three 
major-generals, two brigadiers, and two or three colonels. 

One of Hidalgo’s most prominent adherents, Colonel 
Delgado, was arrested at San Antonio, — where he lived, — 
by order of Salcedo, (governor of Texas, and a near rela- 
tive of the captain-general of the same name,) executed, 
and his head stuck on a pole, in a conspicuous part of the 
town. Another, General Bernardo Gutierrez, escaped to 
Natchitoches, as we have already seen. 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


69 . 


CHAPTER VI. 

This comes oflf well; here’s a wise officer. — 3Ieasure for 3Ieasure. 

S UCH was the substance of the information which the 
Mexican general communicated to his eager listener, 
during the many hours they were in conference. 

If I have depicted my native land in unlovely colors,” 
— he now continued, by way of peroration, — “think not 
that my feelings are in any degree estranged from her. I 
do it, because I want your aid and the aid of all you can 
influence to rescue her from the pit of misery and degra- 
dation into which she has been dragged ; and to effect 
this end, I tell you the whole truth — but nothing more. 
God knows, it should suffice to soften the heart of a fiend 
to sympathy, at least, if no further. There is not a coun- 
try in the world that can show more natural beauties, nor 
one that is more favored by Nature with all that can con- 
tribute to man’s happiness. Yet is there none, at this 
moment, on ’which there seems to rest a deeper curse. It 
is felt by all who have any feelings, from the boor to the 
most refined. The one can find no happiness or pleasure 
in the society of his lowly family — that narrow sphere 
'which bounds his influence and his aspirations. The 
.other, when he stirs abroad, cannot glow at sight of the 
sweet valleys; nor can his soul dilate over the grandeur of 
mountains, because the blight of chains is on the air. 
They cannot always be seen — they do not always clank — 
but they are always there : they fetter the mind. Though 
the treasures which her mines afford are exhaustless, she 


70 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


swarms with beggars. Vainly do teeming wild-flow^ers 
scent the air, for their fragrance, go where yon will, is 
mingled with the offensive reek of squalor. 

“Then as regards the people — I acknowledge the fact 
with humiliation, but not with despair — they are stamped 
with the repulsive features of anarchy and semi-barbarism. 
This could not but be the case, since the elements of which 
the great masses of the population are composed consist of 
an aboriginal race content to exist in unmolested indigence; 
a chaos of mongrel castes, stolid, superstitious, and ignorant; 
a numerous Creole class, wealthy, though mortified and 
discontented; and a compact phalanx of European officials, 
pampered menials of the crown, whose chief concern is to 
profit by every iniquitous act of the government.” 

“But, General,” said Magee, “is it possible for such a 
people, even if freed, to govern themselves?” 

“I do not know,” answered Bernardo; “no one, except 
their Creator, can know. But, for God’s sake, let them 
try; and if they fail, the only remaining hope for poor 
Mexico, is to be taken under the protection of your own 
glorious country.” 

“Yes,” said Magee, “they certainly have a right to the 
experiment of self-government; whether they succeed or 
not is another thing.” 

“Well, General,” the American went on, after a pause, 
“you have thoroughly convinced me of the justice of your 
cause. I can also see that you had, at one time, a very fair 
prospect of succeeding; but that series of disasters, wind- 
ing up with the execution of so many of your prominent 
leaders, seems to me to leave but little hope of accomplish- 
ing anything — at least for the present.” 

“ The present, sir,” answered Bernardo, “is the very time 
for action. Armies of patriots are springing up all over 
the land. General Bayon and General Villagran, with a 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


71 


large force, have, at this moment, possession of all the de- 
files leading from the northern provinces to the city of 
Mexico; so that Calleja and Salcedo are really cut off from 
the capital. Could Rayon have succeeded in reaching 
Hidalgo, at Acatita de Bajan, before his disaster, all would 
have been well ; but he was intercepted, and forced to re- 
tire to the passes which he now commands. Then, there 
is Morelos, a priest, like Hidalgo, and, I think, the most 
efiicient of the patriot leaders, unless it be his young lieu- 
tenant-general, Matamoras, also a priest. These are working 
with all their might in the southern provinces. Another 
army has blocked the way from the capital to Vera Cruz, 
the principal and almost the only seaport-town of the vice- 
royalty. So, there is little doubt, the tyrants will soon 
have their hands full. 

‘‘You must reflect, sir, that scarcely a year ago we 
plunged suddenly into this war, without money and with- 
out supplies, all of which we had to capture from the 
enemy. And what was perhaps worse, we had no concert 
of action — no discipline — no organization — no regular 
plans; but these things are progressively improving, and 
all will come right in time. 

“I have no more doubt, sir, that we shall succeed in 
breaking the power of our oppressors, than I have of my 
own sincerity in the cause. Ay, we can do it without 
foreign aid, but not so speedily. If your countrymen do 
not assist, the struggle may be protracted for years, and 
blood drench the land, — whole provinces be laid waste,— 
and thousands of homes be draped in mourning for the 
dead and the desolation around.” 

“General,” inquired Magee, “did none of your country- 
men in the province of Texas make any demonstration of 
throwing off* the yoke during those bloody days?” 

“They did,” replied Bernardo; “and, considering how 


72 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


few of them there are, a very gallant demonstration it was. 
The Delgados, the Arochas, the Traviezos, the Leals, and 
others, who had formed a privileged class in San Antonio 
de Bexar from the time their fathers came from the Canary 
Isles, on the king’s invitation, to people Texas, in 1730, 
were at the head of the movement. They first found means 
to corrupt the troops, and selected a young captain, Juan 
Casas, to command them. He marched at their head, to 
the government -house, at night; and, seizing Governor 
Salcedo and other officers, sent them ofl', in chains, to the 
interior of Mexico. Even while this was being enacted, 
however, Hidalgo had already been defeated, — though the 
news had not yet reached Texas. No sooner were those 
disastrous tidings known in San Antonio, than a plot was 
set afoot to depose Casas from the command, and win the 
troops back to the royal cause. Casas was accordingly 
seized, chained, and hurried away to Chihuahua, where he 
was soon afterwards executed, and his head put into a sack 
and dispatched to San Antonio, with the view of striking 
terror into the citizens and the garrison of that place, and 
thus deterring them from following his disloyal example.” 

“This, however, proves,” said Magee, “that there is at 
least some patriotism among the Mexican population of 
Texas, — which was the main object of my inquiry.” 

“As to that,” returned Bernardo, “there is no doubt the 
people of that province are only awaiting a favorable op- 
portunity to strike for their freedom.” 

“Now, General,” said Magee, — after a long pause in the 
conversation, during which both seemed, as they rose and 
paced the floor on opposites of the spacious room, to be 
digesting what had already, been said, or to be laying plans 
for the future, — “how many Spanish troops do you sup- 
pose there are in the province of Texas?*” 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


73 


“Salcedo has about twelve hundred regulars at San 
Antonio. At the various intervening posts there are prob- 
ably eight hundred more. These are, I think, all the 
Spaniards have east of the Rio Grande.” 

“What force would it require to drive them out of the 
province?” 

“Five hundred Americans could, I doubt not, march 
from the Sabine to the vicinity of San Antonio without 
serious opposition. Before surrendering that city, the 
enemy would probably make a stand, as it is accounted 
•the key to the whole province. For that purpose, they 
would have — including the garrisons which the Americans 
would drive before them — about two thousand well -dis- 
ciplined troops.” 

Magee next made many inquiries about the geography 
and topography of Texas; and got Bernardo to explain 
the situation of the different military posts, together with 
their several defences ; all which things were the more 
easily explained, from the fact that Bernardo produced 
from his pocket a map of Texas, which had been made by 
Nolan — the first ever made of that country, then so little 
known. 

“Now,” said Magee, as soon as his inquiries had been 
satisfactorily answered, “ I am enabled to submit, for your 
consideration, the outlines of a campaign; which, provided 
we can raise three hundred Americans, I make no doubt 
can be successfully carried out. It is a very simple plan, 
with little or no manoeuvring, though manoeuvring enough 
may be required by unforeseen emergencies arising during 
its execution. 

“First of all, we must not divide our forces, but must 
concentrate on every position of the enemy in succession. 
Their small guard at the Sabine crossing, here’' continued 
the speaker, indicating that point on the map spread out 


74 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


before them, “which we will first encounter on our march, 
will, of course, offer but slight resistance, if any, — but be 
either dispersed or captured, 

^‘Here, at Nacogdoches, which you say is forty miles 
further on, we may meet with some resistance; but energy 
and bravery, with perhaps a little strategy, to save blood, 
will soon overcome it. The taking of this position — Span- 
ish Bluff, here, on the Trinity, a hundred miles, you say, 
from Nacogdoches — may, owing to the falling back upon 
it of the other two garrisons, give us some severe fighting. 
Here, you say, we shall find ammunition and supplies. 

“Having thus penetrated nearly a hundred and fifty 
miles into the interior, we can afford to rest a while on our 
laurels; and may safely rely on the news of our success 
bringing others to our standard. I do not believe we can 
raise more than three hundred men, until we shall have, 
in this way, guaranteed our success to others, who will 
then, no doubt, be eager to join us. Having received suf- 
ficient accession to our force, we will then push on at once 
to San Antonio, — there being, you say, no intervening 
garrison. Salcedo will either march out and meet us, or 
stand on the defensive within the town. In either case, 
we shall probably have some hot work. But I think we 
can beat him, and perhaps capture his whole force, arms, 
ammunition and supplies. 

“ At San Antonio we will again take a resting-spell. In 
fact, I tell you candidly now, I think it very doubtful 
whether Americans will be willing to go further. They 
will probably be content to hold such a large and attrac- 
tive country as Texas, and cannot be induced, by any ofiTers 
you may extend to them, to cross the Rio Grande.” 

“Well,” said Bernardo, “even if we can do no more 
than redeem Texas from the Gachupins, that alone will 
be a glorious work. There will then be, at least, a place 


MOKE THAN SHE COULD BEAK. 


75 


to which the Mexican exile — when hunted down during the 
dark days that may come again and again before the inde- 
pendence of his native country is secured — may fly from 
the vengeance of his foe, and rest and recruit a while ere 
he plunges once more into the struggle.” 

“Once established at San Antonio,” continued Magee, 
“ the first step will be to inaugurate a provisional govern- 
ment in the interest of the patriots. As we shall then be 
among a Mexican population, it is my opinion that you 
yourself should be placed at the head of the proposed 
government. By this, we not only conciliate the native 
population in and about San Antonio, and secure their 
more cordial co-operation ; but, at the same time, we prove 
to the whole Mexican nation, that American ambition and 
cupidity, of which they are very jealous — morbidly so, I 
think — are not at the bottom of our project. 

“ By such a course, too, matters will assume a permanent 
appearance to the adventurous young men of the United 
States, and they wull, at length, swell our ranks to a degree 
that may justify an onward movement beyond the Bio 
Grande to reinforce the patriot army. At least, we could 
establish the independence of Texas, and make it a perma- 
nent rallying-ground, as you have said, for your banished 
countrymen.” 

“ Your plan is well laid,” said Bernardo, with enthusiasm, 
into which personal ambition, perad venture, entered largely; 
“ and I cannot doubt of its success.” 

“ You have proposed,” Magee went on, “ that I should 
command the republican force; but there is — ” 

“Yes,” interrupted Bernardo, with some eagerness, — “al- 
most as soon as I saw you, I was convinced you were tlie 
proper person for that. And I can assure you, I was not at 
all sorry that before I sought this conference all the other 
officers at the post had declined to direct the campaign.” 


76 


M O R E T 11 A X SHE COULD BEAR. 


“ Well, be that as it may,” resumed Magee, “ I was 
about to remark, that, although I would probably be more 
acceptable than yourself with Americans, you would, no 
doubt, have equally the advantage over me, when we come 
to deal with your own countrymen. I will, therefore, sug- 
gest this arrangement. Although it might be well that I 
should be the real leader, so long as Americans alone, or 
chiefly Americans, are concerned, you ought to be the 
nominal commander from the very opening of the cam- 
paign. When we shall get possession of San Antonio, 
although I think you should not only retain this nominal 
military leadership, but should be placed at the head of 
the proposed civil government, — yet, let me say, we shall 
expect you to advise with us, even then, touching the policy 
to be pursued in all matters of moment.” 

“Of course,” replied Bernardo, “I shall always be glad 
to receive the opinion of yourself and your countrymen ; 
and can promise that I shall be largely influenced by your 
judgment.” 

“ Now,” said the American, “ since we And we can agree 
on the general policy to be pursued, we will arrange matters 
for initiating the campaign ; or, rather, for making up our 
little army and its equipments. There is one point we must 
never for a single moment lose sight of, — and that is, to 
keep our movements, as much as possible, a profound secret. 
We should communicate our objects to those only who are 
to be engaged with us; we should employ as few agents, 
and as trustworthy ones, as possible. In fact, I think it 
better that you and myself should attend personally to 
everything in our power ; for should the United States 
government hear of our plans, they will have no alternative, 
since they are at peace with Spain, but to stay our proceed- 
ings. Moreover, the governor of Louisiana, I understand, 
has repeatedly declared, that he should consider himself 


M 0 11 E THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


77 


constrained to use every legitimate means to suppress all 
hostile demonstrations of the kind from the borders of this 
State. I will go at once to New Orleans, and perhaps to other 
points in the Southern States, and see what can be done in 
the way of getting volunteers, as well as arms and supplies.” 

“ And, for my part,” said Bernardo, “ I will remain in 
this vicinity, and do what I can here. I have an old 
friend. Colonel Davenport, an American, who settled 
several years ago near Nacogdoches. From him I may 
I’easonably hope to procure aid, since I have often heard 
him say he would be willing to make almost any sacrifice 
to break the Spanish rule in Texas. I will find means to 
communicate with him on the subject ; and out of his 
wealth, which is considerable, I am sure he will at least 
contribute liberally, if, indeed, he will not lend us the aid 
of his personal exertions and his excellent judgment.” 

“ I have often seen the Colonel about this place,” said 
Magee, “ but was not aware he was one of the disaffected 
citizens of Texas. If he could be induced to accept the 
position of quartermaster, he would make a most efficient 
one. By all means secure his aid, if it can be done. I 
would suggest, however, that, instead of going yourself to 
Nacogdoches, if such is your purpose, you send him a mes- 
sage by some reliable person, to come here to confer with 
you. This would greatly lessen the risk of exposing our 
scheme.” 

“I shall certainly not go myself,” returned the Mexican. 

It would be as much as my head is worth to venture to 
Nacogdoches, unless backed by an armed force.” 

“ Another great point,” resumed Magee, “ is, that we 
must act with energy, and raise the proposed force as soon 
as possible. The longer we linger on this side of the Sa- 
bine, the greater the danger that our expedition will be 
broken up. But once on Spanish territory, with a force 
7 * 


78 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


sufficient to maintain ourselves there, — the United States 
government cannot reach us. Once established in Nacog- 
doches, for instance, we can afford to wait until our schemes 
are further matured and unorganized reinforcements arrive 
from the United States.” 

“There is,” said Bernardo, after a pause, “another very- 
important point to be gained ; which, as I have vainly- 
waited for you to name, I will venture to do it myself. 
In fact, could we secure the object to which I allude, we 
might make bold to march as far as Nacogdoches at once, 
and await, outside the jurisdiction of the United States, the 
accession of volunteers.” 

“ Do you suppose for a moment I had not thought of 
that f Why, General, I have thought of it at least 
twenty times since this conference began.” 

“ Did you not consider it of sufficient moment even to 
mention it?” 

“It is of very great moment — I had almost said, vital ; 
and I refrained from any allusion to it, only because I 
knew it could never be accomplished — never, I am ex- 
ceedingly sorry to say.” 

“ I see no good reasons why it should not,” said Bernardo, 
with surprise ; “ many reasons why it should. You surely 
do not know to what I refer.” 

“ You can refer to but one thing : our securing the ser- 
vices of the Neutral Ground men.” 

“And what insurmountable obstacle is there to this?” 

Magee then detailed to the General his late transactions 
with the freebooters in regard to the capture of the silver; 
only stopping short of his personal difficulty with the Chief. 

“ Truly a misfortune,” said Bernardo, dejectedly. 

“ And one,” said the American officer, “ which you may 
readily judge is irreparable^ when I tell you they have 
sworn to have my blood, come what may.” 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 79 

“Nevertheless,” Bernardo resumed, as soon as he had 
rallied from the shock of the disappointment, “ I will try 
what I can do in the way of tranquillizing them. I will 
get them together and make such offers as I think best 
calculated to reconcile them to your leadership. I will 
tell them not only of the fertile lands and the wild horses 
they will be entitled to, but of the rich mines they shall 
share if successful; and of the surplus of confiscated^ 
property which will fall to their lot in the distribution, as 
well as the lucrative offices some of them may hope to hold 
under the new government of the province. This will only 
be forestalling the address which I shall probably deliver 
to all our forces, so soon as we shall have fairly arrived on 
Spanish soil.” 

“ You may try all these things,” said Magee ; “ they can 
do no harm. But I have no hope of your succeeding. If 
I am to lead the invasion, we shall have to dispense with 
their services, — which I much regret, as they are brave 
men, — and triumph, or fail, as the case may be, without 
them. I should, however, advise you not to think of men- 
tioning the subject to any of the men. Speak only to 
Gatewood ; for not only can you influence them more 
through him than in any other way, but I am confident 
that, if you will first get his pledge to secrecy, he will not 
divulge our plans. On the other hand, if you confer with 
the men, some of them will be sure to betray us : the gov- 
ernment will then get wind of the expedition, and suppress 
it at once.” 

“True enough,” said the Mexican; “as I spoke on the 
impulse of the moment, that did not occur to me. Of 
course I shall make advances only to the Chief.” 

“ And here. General,” said Magee, — “ as I have not yet 
absolutely accepted the command, but have only been dis- 
cussing the merits of the matter in band on the assumption 


80 


MORE THAN SHE C O U I. D BEAU. 


that I had accepted, — I will now give you this conditional 
answer. In the first place, I will accept the command, 
provided you can’t get the freebooters to act under any 
one else. If yOu can, I would advise you by all means to 
do so.” 

“As I have not the most remote idea,” replied Bernardo, 
“ of trying to secure their services except under your 
leadership, you may consider that objection to your 
immediate acceptance removed. — What are your other 
conditions ? ” 

“There is but one other: that you will allow me until 
the middle of the afternoon, to-morrow, to make my final 
decision. I ask this,- because there may be a crisis in my 
afiairs to-morrow, about noon, that may render my accept- 
ance impossible.” 

“ Certainly,” replied the other ; “ digest the matter at 
your leisure.” 

This last interchange of remarks seeming to bring the 
interview naturally to a termination, Bernardo bade good- 
night and turned away from the threshold, revolving in 
his mind the mysterious allusion couched in Magee’s 
closing speech. 

Day was now breaking, and the young American oflicer 
turned in to snatch what repose he might in the brief time 
that remained before the wonted day-din of the town 
should rise to disturb his slumbers. 


MORE THAX SHE COULD BEAR. 81 


CHAPTER VII. 

Great Heaven ! what vain beliefs 


Have stirr’cl the pulse and led the hopes of man, 

As if that honor could be bought by blood. — Miss Landon. 

My brothers of the state 

Cannot but feel this wrong as ’twere their own. — Othello. 
BOUT eleven o’clock, Magee was galloping alone 



S\. through the western outskirts of Natchitoches, on his 
way to the Arroyo Honda, six miles from the town, to 
fill his deadly appointment with Gatewood. His dress 
and equipments — in fact, everything about him — were 
much as on the previous day, when he delivered his own 
challenge to that dreaded Chief, — the only exception 
being a small-sword suspended from his belt. 

Up to the time of his interview with Bernardo, he had 
intended informing Gatewood, as soon as they should meet 
on the appointed ground, of the deception practised upon 
him with regard to his own identity, — explaining how, 
and under what peculiar circumstances, the principal and 
his second who carried the challenge, came to be one and 
the same person — namely, Augustus W. Magee, 1st lieu- 
tenant of the United States Artillery ; and that he was 
ready for the combat to begin. 

A great change, however, had, meanwhile, been wrought 
in his feelings. How loW had those personalities, which a 
few hours before had so grievously wounded his honor and 
stimulated his pride and all his indignant manhood to 
resent them, — how low had they sunk in his estimation, 
on the looming up of the glorious fame that awaited him, 


82 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


should he lend his guidance to his countrymen in their 
efforts to release ten millions of fellow-beings from a de- 
basing bondage. But yesterday, it seemed to him of prime 
importance that he should wipe out, here, in the lonely 
forest, by the cold-blooded process of the duello, the impu- 
tation of cowardice cast upon his fair name ; while, on the 
other hand, there was now a stage inviting him to act, 
from which the curtain was about lifting, — a stage so 
wide that the whole world would be the witnesses of his 
daring — the applauders of his heroism. 

So far, therefore, from being now, as he had been all 
along, eager for the approaching combat, he fain would 
avert it, if it were possible to do so. He was no less loth 
to spill the blood of a brave man, — who, else, might live 
to lend his powerful aid to the same noble cause, — 
than he was to yield up his own breath in this compara- 
tively obscure way, when a career of true glory lured 
him on. 

In accordance with these feelings, as he neared the 
ground fixed on for the trial, he resolved, as the last hope 
of averting the fatal issue of the meeting, to avail himself 
of the advantages which his incognito afforded him for this 
purpose. 

Scarcely had he reached the eastern bank of the creek, 
and noted that the trees cast their shadows exactly with 
the road, when he descried Gatewood approaching the 
opposite bank, on foot. Magee did not draw rein on reach- 
ing the margin of the stream ; and by the time he had 
crossed to the other side, his foe was confronting him. 

“You are, no doubt, surprised,” began Magee, “that 
my friend is not here to answer your acceptance of his 
challenge.” 

“You are aware, I presume,” was the reply, “that, by 
the code, you are required to take your friend’s place?” 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


83 


“Fully aware, sir; and quite ready, if you demand it,” 
was the prompt response. “But — ” 

“ Well, this is rather public, and we may be interrupted 
here. Let us withdraw from the road, at least.” 

“ Lead the way to some suitable spot,” said Magee, as 
he dismounted. “ I presume you know the ground here- 
abouts.” 

“ Every foot of it.” 

With this, Gatewood turned aside into the woods, fol- 
lowed by the other, leading his horse. They had advanced 
about a hundred yards, when Gatewood halted, at an open- 
ing in the timber. 

“ This place will do, I think,” said he. 

“ There could be none better, whether our meeting is to 
end in words or war,” said Magee, — then retired to a little 
distance and secured his horse to a limb. 

The spot selected was an open, level space of thick 
sward, about ten paces across, each way, flanked on one 
side by a pile of huge rocks, heaped there by nature’s 
hand ; while on the other ran the creek. Against the 
largest rock, which beetled over a little, there was a smirch 
of smoke spreading out, and gradually thinning as it 
ascended along the gray granite surface, until, by the time 
it reached the top, the mark was scarcely visible. This 
fuliginous deposit had no doubt been caused by a fire 
kindled at the base of the rock by some roving Pariah, 
who had bivouacked there, — perhaps tented there for a 
season, — most probably Gatewood himself, since he found 
the place so readily on the present occasion. 

“Since I delivered you Lieutenant Magee’s note,” began 
Magee, as soon as he had returned, “ events have tran- 
spired which have caused him to regret the challenge. 
With your indulgence, I will briefly recount those events.” 

The Chief signified his assent. 


84 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


“Yesterday,” Magee began, “a Mexican officer, of high 
rank, reached Natchitoches, fresh from the scene of strife 
in Mexico. He represents the patriot cause as by no 
means so desperate as previous reports made it — reports, 
which, of course, you have heard. It is still making great 
headway in many portions of the country. All it needs, 
to insure success, is a formidable diversion from this 
quarter. An expedition is about being set on foot, to 
leave Natchitoches, as soon as it can be got ready. This 
is intended to drive all Spaniards from Texas, declare her 
independent, and set up a republican government. For 
this purpose, while we expect to get the aid of many men 
from the United States, we do not feel sure of success, un- 
less we can secure the co-operation of the men of the 
Neutral Ground. If they join us, their fame and fortunes 
will be made along with our own. 

“ Lieutenant Magee, who has been selected to command 
the expedition, hopes to fight side by side with them yet, 
and to rival their Chief in daring deeds on many a glori- 
ous field, instead of seeking his heart’s blood in a way that 
can bring honor to neither. He bids me say to you that 
he very much regrets having suffered himself to be goaded 
by your taunt, to the extent of inflicting a disgraceful 
punishment on some of your men ; and that he is willing 
to make amends to them in every possible way. He also 
regrets exceedingly having sent the challenge, which he 
did under the pressure of momentary anger ; and author- 
izes me, not only to withdraw it, but to apologize for its 
^very offensive tone, — casting, as it did, insinuations against 
your bravery, which neither he, nor any one else who has 
heard but the simple truth of you, ever questioned.” 

Throughout this interview, the two men were pacing to 
and fro the narrow bounds of the greensward, often cross- 
ing each other’s paths, their step quickened or retarded, 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 85 

according as their feelings were excited or not, by their 
words. 

“And why is not Lieutenant Magee here, to tell me 
nhese things himself?” demanded the stalwart freebooter, 
suddenly staying his step, and looking fiercely at his dis- 
guised foe. 

So searching, indeed, was the look, that Magee began to 
think Gatewood suspected his disguise, — or, rather, that 
he had really known him all this time, and yesterday to 
boot. So convinced was he of this, for a moment, that he 
was on the point of declaring his identity, and, as the only 
alternative left him, drawing his sword without more ado. 
But reflecting, instantly, that he never had any great cause 
of grievance against this man, and that what little he had 
was now sunk into insignificance by the untold grievances 
of millions, so lately and so vividly depicted to him by one 
just from the scene, he once more checked the deadly 
impulse, and resolved, then and there, that, if this meeting 
was destined to eventuate in hostilities, the moody Chieftain 
of the Neutral Ground, and not himself, must initiate them. 

Nor were these reflections at all weakened by the fact 
that he found the grim bandit gradually, though quite 
unintentionally, overcoming his prejudices and gaining on 
liis good opinion. When he visited his encampment, he 
expected to encounter a monster of repulsive front. He 
found, instead, a man, presenting not only a highly favored 
person and an attractive countenance, but polite manners 
withal. Here, in this second meeting, with a mind already 
disposed by late events to extenuate still further his mis- 
deeds, he saw but a noble leader — noble, provided he could 
only be induced to abjure the lawless life he now led, and 
to direct his energies and his talents into a proper channel. 

Instead, therefore, of answering fiercely, he quietly replied, 
— still trusting that his disguise had not been penetrated: 

8 


86 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

“Lieutenant Magee's reasons for not giving you these 
explanations in person must be obvious enough, when you 
consider that bis main object is to avert a collision. Were 
two men of such spirit to meet after the insults that have 
passed between you, meeting would be but fighting.” 

“ What then,” asked Gatewood, “ becomes of my charge 
ao-ainst him of cowardice?” 

This remark, though gently enough uttered, caused 
Magee’s quick blood to mount to his face, flushing it all 
over, while his gleaming eyes instantly shot a glance into 
those before him, as he replied : 

“If this meeting, sir, is to end without bloodshed — ” 

He had, during this heated moment of passion, forgotten 
that he was only Magee’s friend, and thought himself 
Magee, and thus came very near betraying his identity ; 
but suddenly recollecting how things really were, and curb- 
ing his wrath, he continued, — stammering a little in the 
first words : 

“That is — I mean — if you intend settling this affair 
amicably with my friend through me, the less said about 
that charge the better, unless you name it to withdraw it. 
Now, the truth is, my friend had no reason whatever to 
think that you lacked personal courage. His taunt was 
altogether the result of yours. He has withdrawn the 
charge, and has freely acknowledged your bravery, al- 
though you must own he had quite as much reason to 
question it as you had to question his. Why, then, can 
you not act a generous part, and admit not that he is 
brave, — for, of that you may know nothing, — but that 
you have no ground to deem him the reverse?” 

There now ensued a painful pause; for Gatewood, in- 
stead of replying at once, looked down for some moments, 
as if considering what answer to make. This hesitation 
irritated Magee no little. He found it a trying task to 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 87 

await quietly the decision of a man who was, even tlien, 
coolly revolving in his mind, whether or not he who 
awaited that decision was a coward — deliberately weigh- 
ing the pros and cons bearing upon that delicate question. 
He resolved to cut the judgment short, let it be what it 
mi^-ht. 

“Well, sir, this is truly hard to bear!” he broke out. 
“ If you find it so very diflicult to decide that point, you 
and Lieutenant Magee shall yet confront each other. If 
you do not know he is a brave man, you soon shall know 
that he is, at least, brave enough to meet you^ face to face 
and steel to steel. Draw ! for I am the man whom you 
insult.” 

With this, Magee, transformed into a perfect tiger for 
energy, activity, and wrath combined, whipped out his 
rapier and took position. 

Gatewood, much to his opponent’s surprise, instead of 
responding, in kind, to this tornado of word and manner, 
merely withdrew his eyes from the ground, and, fixing 
them steadily on the stormy speaker before him, observed, 
in tones as calm as the zephyr’s breath : 

“ Lieutenant Magee, if you expected, by making a few 
changes in your person, to disguise yourself from me, all I 
can say, is, you knew little of me. I was once in your 
company a moment. Where, or when, it matters not. I 
was in disguise then. When I have once looked fairly into 
a man’s eyes, and can get a look into them again, great, 
indeed, must be the change that would make me mistake 
him for a stranger. I knew you yesterday as soon as I 
saw you; and had I but given the signal, my men would 
have torn you in pieces. Of course, I knew you to-day. 
From the time I accepted your challenge, until a few 
moments ago, I made no doubt one of us would fall in the 
a})pointed fight ; for I had no reason to doubt you were 


88 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


■ brave, and would meet me or would have good cause for 
refusing. The insulting note I sent you did not express 
my real sentiments. I penned it because irritated to think 
that the ofScers of a great government would voluntarily 
condescend to protect smugglers, instead of leaving, alike, 
all men who are committing unlawful acts, to protect 
themselves, — as we of the Neutral Ground have done for 
years, and hope to do for years to come. 

“And. now I will say, that, although I came here fully 
resolved to shed your blood if this arm could do it, I was 
soon made glad to find that you offered, instead of deadly 
combat, a truce to hostilities. For it left me an opening 
for proposing that which is much nearer my heart than 
fighting you.” 

Long before the Chief had spoken thus far, Magee had 
not only pretty fairly caught the contagion of his calm- 
ness, but felt, besides, no slight degree of that confusion 
which comes over us when made unpleasantly conscious 
that we have quite overdone a matter of passion. These 
circumstances, together with the conciliatory tone of his 
opponent’s remarks, had banished every appearance of 
'menace from his attitude, look, and manner, by the time 
l)is turn to speak had arrived. 

“ You mean, then,” said he, “ that you will join our — ” 

“No,” replied Gatewood ; “I was not thinking of your 
military plans. I will allude to them presently. If you 
will but do all you can to have my men released, I promise 
not only to forget all about the little matter which 
brought us here, but to maintain your bravery on all occa- 
sions when it may be called in question. You caused the 
poor fellows to be whipped and tortured, although they 
had never harmed you or yours. God knows they have 
suffered enough already, for merely plundering thieves; 
and if you will only effect their release, I think I can safely 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 89 

promise that none of us will ever afterwards — I dare not 
say, bear you malice, for that we shall probably carry to 
our graves — but that we will never seek to work you per- 
sonal harm, nor oppose the cause which you expect to 
engage in. 

“ As to our co-operation with you in the proposed cam- 
paign, however, it is not to be thought of ; and the sooner 
you drop it from your calculations, the better both for us 
and yourself. We may overlook the past, but we cannot 
forgive ; and as regards forgetting, it will be impossible 
even to try” 

“I pledge you my honor that I will exert all my influ- 
ence to effect their release,” said Magee, some\\diat moved 
at the Chief’s unexpected display of feeling in behalf of 
his men, though at the same time greatly discouraged to 
hear that there was no hope of securing the important aid 
of the powers holding sway in Neutralia. 

He would probably have renewed his attempt at persua- 
sion — at least, would have given Gatewood to understand 
that he still entertained hopes of his final co-operation, as 
he called to mind the more definite and tangible offers 
which Bernardo had pledged himself to make. As he was 
about to speak to that effect, however, the Chief waved 
adieu ; and thrusting aside the bushes which hedged in 
their narrow stage, opposite the side they had entered, dis- 
appeared in the dense wood, leaving the other no alterna- 
tive but to mount his horse and turn homeward. 

8 * 


90 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR, 


CHAPTER VIII. 


Oh, why was woman made so fair, or man 

So weak as to see that more than one had beauty ? — Festm. 


I partly think 


A due sincerity govern’d his deeds 

Till he did look on me. — 3Ieasu7'e far Measure. 

As if for death, some lonely trumpet peal’d. — Campbell. 

OR mdny weeks, refugees, mostly persons of note, were 



X passing through the Neutral Ground, on their way to 
some place of safety. They knew too well the nature of 
the foes with whom they had to deal to trust themselves 
within their reach ; for it has always been, that when 
Spaniards triumphed, after a struggle with the oppressed, 
they have required more blood and persecution to appease 
their vengeance — miscalled by them, justice — than any 
other enlightened people on the face of the globe. 

Gatewood had given orders to his men that none of these 
unfortunates, of whatever degree, should be disturbed while 
crossing his territory, or sojourning therein, if they should 
choose to sojourn. Whatever his faults, or crimes, he never 
added to the distresses of those already under affliction ; 
and the same policy was on all occasions inculcated upon 
his followers, though not quite so invariably obeyed. 

One afternoon, he was returning, on horseback, to Camp 
Wildwood — which the reader has already visited with 
Magee — from the inspection of a building that he had 
lately caused to be erected for himself on the margin of a 
certain lake, presently to be described, and standing in the 
heart of the Neutral Ground. Finding it more convenient 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


91 


to leave, for the time, the net-work of by-paths which 
penetrated the forest in every direction, and with the in- 
tricacies of which he, as well as most of his men, was per- 
fectly familiar, he emerged from one of these by-paths into 
the main road, already more than once alluded to, intend- 
ing, after passing along that thoroughfare for the distance 
of a mile or two, to strike olf in the direction of the camp. 

It chanced that soon after he had entered the road and 
w^as moving westward, he met a party of mounted refugees, 
consisting of five persons. In front, and riding abreast, 
were an elderly man and a youth ; while a few paces be- 
hind them came a young lady. These three, evidently of 
pure Spanish descent, were all well mounted on stylish 
horses. 

Bringing up the rear, were a Mexican man and woman, 
both somewhat stricken in years, riding mules and driving 
before them two pack-animals of the same species, one laden 
with a tent and blankets, together with provisions and a 
few cooking-utensils, the other bearing various articles ap- 
pertaining to tent-life. 

The fiery-eyed, classic-featured youth wore upon his face 
a sternness altogether alien to his years. He sat his horse 
in military style, was attired in a jacket and nether garments 
of black velvet, with red cord running along their seams. 
The former vestment was decorated by a row of silver 
buttons on each side in front; the latter, after the Mexican 
fashion, by a row of the same extending from the Avaist 
down, outside of each leg, to the foot, buttoned, how^ever, 
only as far as the knee, the lower portion flowing loose. A 
crimson silk sash was gracefully knotted about his waist, 
the fringed ends pendent, and at times playing against his 
horse’s side. His slouched hat^ of sombre hue, was garnished 
by a black ostrich-feather. He carried the only weapons 
of the party, — namely, a pair of richly mounted pistols, in 


92 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


}\is holsters, and at his side a sabre with gold-plated hilt. 
The horse which he rode was caparisoned in the most ornate 
fashion, the bridle, saddle, and housings, of the best material, 
being elaborately wrought with gold and silver thread. 

The style of vestments worn by the elderly man told at 
once of his priestly calling. These ecclesiastical trappings, 
apparently so ill -befitting the occasion, may have been 
donned to throw a holy air around, not only his own person, 
but the whole party, to the end, that none of them might 
suffer harm, or be subjected to insult, during the perilous 
journey they had been making. 

The beauty of the lady — both in her oval face and her 
slender, yet well-rounded person — would, at a glance, 
have struck the most indifferent beholder as of no common 
order; while any one peculiarly susceptible to such in- 
fluences might well have been more than transiently im- 
pressed, even while passing, — though she were never seen 
again. 

Her style bespoke the blending of Moorish with Castilian 
blood, though her dark dress was, in nothing, different from 
that of an American lady, except that she wore over her 
robe a rich scarf embroidered in sober hues. This, none 
but a Spanish woman knows how to wear; and in her 
graceful handling alone is it really beautiful. If she 
rides — and those of them who ride at all show splendid 
horsemanship — she knows exactly when and how to gather 
up its folds, and when and how to let them flow in rhythm 
with her movements. If she walks — and who can walk 
like a Spanish woman? — it waves as gracefully about her 
as an angel’s wing. 

Her hair, — except the eye, the chief pride of the 
vSpanish beauty, — which had probably been braided or 
coiled upon her head, now, as though glad to be released, 
gambolled in the breeze, and being wavy, and flossy 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


93 


withal, was none the less beautiful — nay, more so — for 
the disorder. 

The large, dark, changeful eyes betrayed, from beneath 
their jetty fringe, the attributes of those southern climes 
where they had been born and nursed. They could flash on 
you until you well might quail ; they could pour forth on 
your darker hours their soothing dew ; but between these, 
they could languish on you a twilight of such weird soft- 
ness that you would pray to dwell in their gentle radiance 
forever. The pencilled brows were drawn up into that 
arch which so surely betokens sadness ; and, indeed, there 
was wanting but an unrelieved pallor to make that 
lovely face the saddest of pictures. Exercise, however, 
had brought a ruddy tinge to the cheek, and the mouth 
was as fresh as the morning rose, the petals whereof are 
just enough open to hint of pearly treasures within. 

Thus was this living tablet relieved from what else had 
caused a pang to the gazer. It pains us to look upon the 
unbroken whiteness of a monument beneath which we 
know bright hopes are buried, but not quite so much when 
we find that the deathly pallor is relieved by a spot or two 
of vermeil moss upon its face. 

Much of all this Gatewood saw during the brief time that 
they paused to learn of him the distance to Natchitoches, 
and whether or not (they being very traveWorn, they 
said) there was any nearer available place of rest and 
'refreshment ; and, for a moment, he was humbled by the 
sudden consciousness that in his stern breast there was 
rising a wild tumult attended by heart-throbs of a sort 
he had not known for years. Truth to say, he felt, just at 
the time, heartily ashamed of his weakness, — as he 
thought it, — and rather abruptly — if not, indeed, impo- 
litely — ended the conference by touching his horse with 
the spur and moving off. 


94 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

He, however, soon had good cause to suspect that he 
had not conquered himself as thoroughly as he had hoped. 
He was fain to cast a look behind at the retiring group: 
then, provoked at having done so, he instantly withdrew 
his gaze. But again he found himself looking back, and 
again, until at length, when a turn in the road veiled the 
party from his view, he betrayed the true state of his feel- 
ings by exclaiming, with a gesture well corresponding : 

“ She never once looked back ! ” 

In fact, every time he had turned to look at her, he had 
hoped she would vouchsafe to bestow’ upon him a single 
glance as a token of transient interest, at least, however 
slight; and felt really chagrined that she did not. 

“ Well,” thought he, as he rode slowly along, “ why 
should it concern me that she did n’t? Why, I can blow 
all this miserable, nonsensical stuff out of my breast by 
one hearty sigh.” And he suited the action to the thought 
— “ sighing like a furnace.” 

But even while he did so, and inw’ardly laughed at his 
owm unrefined conceit, he felt that it was a genuine sigh 
nevertheless, — such a one as had long been a stranger to 
that broad breast. 

“ There now ! ” he muttered ; “ it ’s all over. What a 
deal of fuss some men do make about a pretty woman — 
acting the fool for nothing — over head and ears for many 
a long year — and all that ! ” 

But despite this arrogation of invulnerability, there re- 
mained proof enough that the face of the fair stranger 
clung to his thoughts; for he had gone but little further, 
before he heaved another deep sigh, — unconsciously this 
time, — muttering, as he did so : 

“ What a sad face it was ! No doubt, she has lost many 
friends in that confounded war. The youth I take to be 
her brother — they have the same cast of features. But 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


95 


she may have lost one who was more than a brother ; and 
if she — ” 

The sentence on his lips was left unfinished. He had just 
then reached the point where he was to diverge from the 
road into a bridle-path, to make, in a south-western di- 
rection, his way through the forest to the encampment. 

He reined in suddenly, and sat in listening attitude. 
He appeared, from the expression of his face and from the 
direction in which he kept it turned, to have caught faintly 
some sound coming from the west, not altogether pleasant 
to his ear ; but, being still in doubt, he was marking it 
intently. It seemed, at first, like the rushing and roaring 
of some distant body. Presently, it began to assume, to 
his practised ear, a more distinct sound, not unlike the 
rapid tramp of feet. 

“It is a squad of cavalry,” he growled, instinctively 
placing his hand on the butt of his pistol, though with no 
intention of using it just at the moment ; then driving his 
spurs into his horse, he darted into the thicket. “ They 
are pursued ! ” 

So saying, he turned his horse’s head back towards the 
road, — only a deer’s leap in distance, — and, taking such 
a position as would enable him to see, through the dense 
foliage, any who might pass, — without exposing himself 
to view, — awaited the approach of the horsemen. Nearer 
and nearer they came, and louder grew their multitu- 
dinous tramp, till, presently, they thundered by with clat- 
tering hoof and rattling scabbard, in such a dense cloud of 
dust, however, which the horses’ feet drove up before them 
into the air, that he could see neither how many, nor of 
what manner, they were. Yet he had a full view of the 
leading horseman, and saw that he wore the uniform of 
a Spanish captain. Assuming that, in such a wide road, 
the men were riding several abreast, he judged, by the 


96 


MORE THAN SHE COULH BEAR. 


extent of the veiling cloud, that they would number about 
twenty. 

He seemed to muse a moment, as if in a quandary. It 
was but a moment. 

“ They must be rescued I ” he said, starting from his 
reverie. 

With this, he wheeled his horse and urged him at full 
speed down the path, — then, putting to his lips a bugle 
which hung from his belt, he seemed about to sound it. 

Gatewood and his officers had sound signals for certain 
purposes, and usually carried their bugles with them. In 
fact, any other system of signalling must have proved futile, 
owing to the fact that the surface of the country w^as nearly 
level and covered by almost unbroken forest. The signal 
for rallying at the point where the bugle was blown, was, 
three blasts in quick succession. That for rallying at the 
encampment, was, an indefinite number at longer inter- 
vals, — the person who signalled, unless already at the 
encampment, blowing as he flew thither. The former 
usually indicated nothing more serious in the wind than a 
bear or a wolf to be hunted, and was designed to summon 
only the few who might be scattered in the vicinity and 
disposed to join in the sport. The other was of more 
momentous import, — calling for a general rally, and that 
with all speed. Its ringing notes sent a wild thrill to the 
hearts of all who heard them, being, in fact, equivalent to 
the long-roll of the drum in large armies. 

The Chief, however, withdrew the bugle from his lips 
without sounding it. This doubtless was done, because, 
on second thought, he recollected that the Spanish troop 
must still be within hearing of it, and should they catch 
the sound, they would think it ominous of no good, and 
being thus put on the alert, would hurry back with the 
unlucky refugees, — whom, even by this time, they must 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


97 


have captured, — and so escape across the Sabine before 
he could collect sufficient force for the rescue — his camp 
being still several miles distant. He, however, only post- 
poned the signal until he should get beyond their hearing. 


CHAPTER IX. 

What dangerous action, stood it next to death. 

Would I not undergo for one calm look. 

Two Gentlemen of Verona. 
Not so hot, good sir. — JVinter^s Tale. 

I T being a fine day, and nothing particular on the tapis, 
or expected, the men of Camp Wildwood had scattered 
abroad, many of them to distant points ; some to hunt, 
others to fish, and others to course the wild bee from those 
natural lawn-like openings of small extent, which east of 
the Sabine began to greet the traveller, increasing both in 
number and size as he journeyed westward, until, in the 
region of the Trinity, they opened into Nature’s grand 
flower-fields, dotted here and there with clumps of trees — 
the delight of all who beheld them. While east of the 
Sabine the bee’s chief difficulty was to find flowers from 
which to gather his hoard, west of the Trinity his great 
concern was to find a tree suitable for his habitation 
and treasury. 

In consequence of this general dispersion, Gatewood 
found, on reaching the camp, only about a dozen men. 
These were armed, and ready for any emergency, and 
others were coming in almost every moment in answer to 
his signal ; but all were on foot. 

“More men than I want,” said the Chief, as he galloped 
9 


98 


MOEE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


up to where they stood. “But why are you all on foot? 
Where are the horses? I need the wings of the wind, this 
morning.” 

There were not more than a score of horses kept by 
Gatewood’s band. The nature of the country did not ad- 
mit of their being used to any great extent, nor was there 
often a call for more than they had. Moreover, the dif- 
ficulty of subsisting them made them both inconvenient 
and unprofitable. Spots suitable for grazing were sparse 
and of very contracted limits, as may be inferred from 
what has just been said touching the bee’s difficulties in 
this region. 

“The horses have been taken out several miles to graze,” 
said one of the men. “ But we can have them here in an 
hour.” 

“That will be too late,” said Gatewood. Then, after a 
pause of reflection, “Have the men gone yet, who got per- 
mission to hunt by the lake?” 

“They started about an hour ago.” 

“Were they mounted?” 

“Yes, Captain; it ’s too long a tramp on foot.” 

“If they heard my signal, it ’s time — Hark! they ’re 
coming! ” 

Several agreed that the sound now heard was that of 
horses at full speed, — though, muffled as it was by the 
surrounding wood, others were more cautious in giving 
their opinion. 

So distinct, however, did the hoof-strokes soon become, 
that there remained no longer any doubt on the subject; 
and, in a few minutes more, five horsemen were descried 
coming at a tearing rate along one of the many bridle-paths 
converging to the camp. 

“Are your pistols in order, Wynne?” asked Gatewood, 
as they reined in before him. 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


99 


“Prime, Cap’ll,’^ replied a stout, grim-looking fellow, — 
with a great heavy beard, somewhat grizzled, and a voice 
that rumbled not altogether unlike thunder, — to whom the 
party seemed to accord, tacitly, a sort of leadership. 

“ Loaded, too, for none of your small game — are you sure ?” 

“For the biggest buck that ’s goin’, and good for him at 
fifty steps, in case Darlin’ failed to fetch him.” 

Here the speaker cast on the long rifle, which ho held 
across the saddle-bow, in his right hand, probably as fond 
a glance as he ever bestowed on the “darlin^” — whoever 
she might be — in whose honor the murderous long-range 
was named. 

“Then put up your rifles, and get your sabres. There ’s 
a chance to knock the rust off them, if you can get them 
out of the scabbards.” 

“Get ’em out o’ the scabbards!” echoed Wynne, — as he 
dismounted and moved off, with the others, towards the 
tent near at hand, which served as an armory, — but talk- 
ing back over his shoulder. “Why, Cap’n, they ’re as 
bright as a paynter’s eye: we edged ’em off beautiful, 
yesterday; and if it ’s Spanish blood you ’re on the hunt 
of, they ’ll leap out o’ their sheths ’emselves, without bein’ 
tetched — like a thicket- wolf on to a fawn.” 

“It is Spanish blood,” replied the Captain, as the veteran 
disappeared within the armory. 

“Davies — this way!” said Gatewood, calling to his side 
one of the most resolute, but at the same time the most 
civilized-looking of the by-standing men. “Take this to 
my tent,” he said, handing him his small-sword, “and bring 
my sabre. But,” he continued in a very low tone, “keep 
the matter from Filly. You know how it is with her: 
that ’s the reason I don’t go myself.” 

The man walked off rapidly with the sword. In a few 
minutes he returned, bringing the desired weapon. 


100 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


“Did she ask any questions?’^ inquired Gatewood, in a 
subdued tone, as he girded the deadly weapon about him. 

“She did n’t see me at all. She was in the front ham- 
mock, reading: so I slipped in the back way. She never 
looked up.” 

“ That ’s well. Davies, should anything happen to me, 
you know you are to take her to your mother in town.” 

“ I ’ll never forget my promise to do that. Captain ; and 
I ’ll warrant, she ’ll be well cared for. The old lady took 
a great fancy to her, you know ; and she ’s just the kindest 
old lady in the world when she does take a fancy.” 

By this time, the five men had returned. 

“Now, follow me!” said Gatewood, as soon as they had 
mounted. And, with this, he flew along one of the bridle- 
paths leading in a north-westerly direction, followed by the 
men in single file. 

When they had run at this break-neck rate for about 
three miles, Wynne, availing himself of a long stretch that 
was wide enough for two horsemen to ride abreast in the 
path, spurred suddenly up and laid his animal close along- 
side Gatewood’s. 

“Cap’n,” said he, in low confidential tones, “what is it 

that there ’s such a d d hurry about? What ’s to be 

the end o’ this business, anyhow?” 

Now, the Chief was a very reticent man, and seldom 
communicated his counsels to any one except his lieu- 
tenants, and not often to them. Wynne, however, was a 
privileged character, partly from his being one of the most 
efficient of the men, in the three cardinal virtues of the 
Neutralians — hunting, wood-craft, and fighting; and, also, 
from his being one of the few who could show a sprinkling 
of gray about furrowed temples. 

But even the old woodsman w^as not much given to ob- 
truding on his Chief’s reticence. On this occasion, how- 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 101 

ever, WynDe thought he had never before seen him look 
so “like mad,” as he afterwards said, though he had seen 
him under circumstances of an intensely exciting character. 
He was afraid this unwonted hot-bloodedness — to what- 
ever cause it was due — might prevent his doing the usual 
cool thing, which Wynne himself never failed to do, and to 
enjoin strenuously on others. His motto, so far as it could 
be gathered from his practice, seemed to be, “If you ’ve 
got to spill blood, spill it; but no more ’n you can help, 
on either side; and more ’specially if it ’s your’n.” His 
object, therefore, in propounding the query, was, to elicit 
information on which to volunteer his advice, — he being, 
as yet, almost wholly in the dark as to the matter in hand. 
Of course, the Captain could adopt it, or not, as he should 
see fit. 

“When I say ‘Follow!’ at the beginning of a campaign 
like this,” replied Gatewood, “is n’t it always ‘Charge!’ at 
the end of it?” 

“I reckon it is: leastways, ginerally; but it seems to me 

like as if this ’ere campaign ’s all charge, and a d 1 of 

a long charge at that. If we go on, this way, much further, 
our critters ’ll be so blowed they won’t have any wind in 
’em to charge with, and we mought git kind o’ chawed up, 
if we ain’t too many for ’em when we find ’em.” 

“They are about three or four to one,” said Gatewood, 
seeming to wake up a little to the true state of the case, 
and reining in slightly. 

By this time, the road became again so narrow, that 
Wynne had to fall back into single file. The conversation 
was, nevertheless, kept up under these disadvantages, though 
in a louder tone, that could, perhaps, be heard by one or 
two of the other men. Whenever the path would widen 
out a little, Wynne would spur forward to the Captain’s 
9 * 


102 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


side, and their tones would again become inaudible, to those 
in the rear. 

“ Then, I say, we ’d better take it a little bit cooler ’ii 
this.” 

“ But there ’s no time to lose,” said the Captain. “ Wynne, 
I reckon I may as well tell you all about this thing, and 
ask your advice : I may want it before we get back.” 

“ Better late ’n never,” thought Wynne. “ Well, Cap’n,” 
said he, “ I b’lieve I have helped to improve your campaigns 
oncet or twicet, afore now.” 

“So you have — yes, a dozen times. Well, the state of 
the case is just this : Only a few minutes before you heard 
me blow, I met, on the Natchitoches road, about a mile 
this side of the lake, a party of five refugees — a lady among 
them.” 

“Aha! so there ’s a woman mixed up with it,” thought 
Wynne; “and that ’s just what ’s the matter. He always 
gives that sect a wide berth, ’cept when they ’re hard put 
to it. He don’t love ’em overly, but he ’ll fight for ’em 
like mad. But seems now like as if he ’s crazier ’n there ’s 
any use for.” 

Of course the veteran thought all this in a single moment, 
and did not, in consequence of the mental episode, lose a 
jot of what the Captain was saying. 

“ Just after I turned off the road,” the latter continued, 
“I saw a squadron of Spanish cavalry — about twenty — 
dash by at full speed, evidently in pursuit of them. They 
must have been captured but a few minutes afterwards. 
Now, this path, you know, comes into the main road, a few 
rods this side of the Sabine ferry. I propose to get there 
before them ; then to turn about eastwardly, and sweep the 
road until we meet them. You know, as well as I do, what 
comes next. Now, can you improve that plan? It has the 
merit, at least, of simplicity.” 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 103 

“ I think I can tetch it up, and make it look a leetle 
han’somer ’n that,” replied Wynne, after a brief space of 
thought. “I like it all well enough till we git to the 
road — leastways, all ’cept blowin’ the critters so bad. I 
think that kind o’ risky. But I don’t like that idee o’ 
your’n, Cap’n, sweeping back, that a way, and half a dozen 
men charging twenty reg’lar Spaniards fair and square up, 
in a big road. It ’ll cost blood.” 

“ Of course, it will,” replied the Chief, slightly irritated ; 
and if you can plan it so that it won’t cost blood, suppose 
you do it.” 

“ I can easy fix it,” said the veteran, “ so it w^on’t cost so 
much of our’n, and more o’ their’n.” 

“That ’s very desirable — how would you do it?” said 
the Captain, evidently losing his sharpness of manner, and 
becoming interested. 

“ Well, Cap’n, I ’d take it Injin fashion.” 

“That ’s a mean, sneaking way of fighting, Wynne.” 

“ Not quite so mean, I reckon, as for the most of us to 
have to go under, — and then let ’em git the gal, to boot.” 

Wynne made this last remark upon the assumption that 
“ the gal ” was the main object with Gatewood ; and it is 
quite probable he judged correctly. 

“Sure enough they might do that. Well, Ave ’ll lay an 
ambuscade, then.” 

“ We ’ve got ’em now, sure ’s h-11 ! ” thought Wynne. 
“ You see, Cap’n,” said he, “ we fellows don’t often miss 
when Ave draw a bead, all standin’. It’s different, though, 
dashin’ up, full run. We ’ll pick our men ; and when the 
first smoke clears away, there ’ll be six less of ’em for our 
second shot; and then, mebby, ten less (that ’s jist half, 
you see, if there ’s the round twenty of ’em) for the sabre, 
and none of our’n doAvn yit. And it ’s but the fair thing, 
too, when there ’s three to one.” 


104 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

“ To be sure it is, Wynne. I have never hesitated to 
adopt that very plan when I could, — even where I have 
not been outnumbered by the enemy. But, really, I, some- 
how, did n’t think of it this time. I don’t believe my brain 
is very cool and clear this morning, if the truth was known.” 

“That’s jist what I was thinking, Cap’n; and I was 
try in’ to git you back to your same old cool again. I 
don’t b’lieve I ever saw you flustered afore.” 

“ Well it’s all right now,” said the Chief. 


CHAPTER X. 

I would not be in some of your coats for twopence . — Twelfth Night. 

Truly, sir, I would advise you to clap into your prayers. 

Measure for Pleasure. 

Revenge to me is sweeter far than life . — The Witch of Edmonton. 

rpHE first thing, on reaching the road, was to assure 
X themselves that the pursuing Spaniards had not yet 
returned. This, to Wynne, skilled woodsman as he was, 
was no difficult matter. On a mere glance at the surface 
of the highway, he pronounced the intruders still on the 
Neutral Ground. 

They forthwith selected for their ambush, a point where 
the road made a short semicircular sweep, to wind around 
a ravine ; then stationed themselves among the tangled 
growth, in the concavity of the bend, so as to be able, as 
the military phrase goes, to move on shorter lines than the 
enemy ; or, as Wynne expressed it, with characteristic dis- 
regard alike of elegance and technicalities, “to git the 
inside track on ’em.” 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 105 


Scarcely were they in position, when they heard the 
familiar tramp of advancing cavalry. Gatewood, for ob- 
vious reasons, had not dismounted his little band. The 
well-trained horses, which, by this time, had recovered 
their wind, stood like statues behind the leafy cover, and 
only by the excited gleam of their eyes did they betray an 
inkling of what was about to happen. 

Presently, the Spaniards entered the bend of the road, 
and became visible to the ambush through the many little 
natural windows afforded by the foliage, that were so soon 
to serve, also, as embrasures through which to point the 
deadly tube, and pour the deadly shot. 

As the cavalcade approached, their enemies, being close 
upon the road, could see that its military part marched 
three abreast, in two squads of about equal numbers. Be- 
tween these squads, and about ten paces from each, moved 
the captured party, — in much the same order as when 
Gatewood met them, — and flanked, on either side, by an 
officer. Indeed, the only change which the Chief could 
discern, showed itself in the present pitiable plight of the 
youth. Not only was he disarmed, but his hands were 
tied behind him ; and as, in this helpless condition, it 
would have been impossible for him to guide his horse, the 
animal had been secured, by means of the rein, to the 
priest’s bit. The lady’s face could not be seen : her head 
was bowed down upon her hand, and she seemed to be 
weeping. 

At this time they were moving no faster than a brisk 
walk. Doubtless, they had been making greater speed ; 
but inasmuch as they had penetrated so far into the Neu- 
tral Ground, and had come again so near their own soil, 
without a show of danger, they perhaps thought it useless 
to hurry up any longer, and far more becoming to enter 
the territory of his most serene Majesty with more serenity 


106 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


tlian a precipitate flight would present. Or, perhaps, they 
did not fully comprehend and appreciate the peculiar 
perils of the Neutral Ground. This, indeed, would seem 
to have been the true state of the case, from the fact of 
their bringing away with them the unwieldy pack-mules, 
which must have materially retarded their progress. Had 
they left these behind, and made all haste to get back to 
their own country, no ambush would have been awaiting 
them here. But, as it was, Spanish avarice outweighed 
even Spanish prudence, and here they were, where, per- 
haps, neither prudence nor avarice would long avail them. 

The first intimation they had of danger, was the start- 
ling sound of six pistol-shots piercing their ears, and the 
ghastly and fearful spectacle shocking their vision, of four 
of the front squad rolling from their saddles, and two more 
spurring off* at full speed, evidently wounded. The officers 
were not picked off with the rest, for the very good reason 
that they were in range with the prisoners, and the lives 
of the latter would thereby have been endangered. 

The rear squad, after wildly discharging a volley into 
the invisible ambush, with no more serious damage than 
slightly wounding one man and one or two horses, dashed 
forward among the prisoners and became so mixed up with 
them — purposely, perhaps — that the second volley from 
the Neutralians — which Wynne, in the nice calculation 
already figured up by him on the route, expected would 
reduce them “to jist one half, if there ’s the round twenty 
of ’em ” — could not be availed of. 

Gatewood, seeing instantly this state of things, ordered 
his men to reserve their remaining shot, and close, man to 
man, with the sabre, — which was done, in dashing style. 
He himself singled out the Captain of the troop, who, how- 
ever, was on the far side of the road, so that, in order to 
reach him, the Chief was obliged first to cut down a Span- 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 107 


iarcl, who crossed him, and then to thrust aside, by 
charging upon them, the two pack-mules, which stood, 
fixed and trembling, directly in his path. 

He did not reach his foe a moment too soon ; for he 
found him in the dastardly act of trying to murder, in cold 
blood, the helpless youth, who not only had his hands tied 
behind him, but had been disarmed. The monster had 
already struck at him, but, in order to avoid the blow, he 
had leaped from his horse ; and, in doing so, his back 
being, for a moment, turned towards his enemy, the 
weapon descended between his arms, and touching, with 
the very point, the cord which bound his Avrists together, 
severed it clearly. Whereupon the youth, finding himself 
free, instead of making ofi^ — as he had intended doing, — 
snatched a sabre from one of the dying Spaniards who lay 
upon the ground, and turned violently upon his foe. But 
the latter, being still mounted, had greatly the advantage 
in his elevated position, and would, no doubt, have soon 
dispatched the youth. Meanwhile, however, Gatewood 
had made his way to the spot; and, parrying a deadly 
blow aimed at the youth, ran his sabre, almost to the 
hilt, into and through the breast of the Spaniard, who 
rolled to the ground a corpse. 

By this time, the crowd was pretty well thinned out. 
The spirited youth finding his friend had taken the trucu- 
lent Captain entirely off his hands, turned about, and 
atoned for his constrained inactivity in the first part of the 
melee, by attacking a dismounted Spaniard, much his 
superior in strength, and killing him after a severe struggle. 

The priest, — whose horse had been shot from under him, 
— apparently forgetful of his ghostly office, instead of hasten- 
ing to offer the consolations of extreme unction to the souls 
that were being disembodied all around him, fell to with a 
will, and a pistol which he snatched up from the ground. 


108 MOHE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


and in the twinkling of an eye, released from all earthly 
bondage a grim devil of a Gachupin, who was striving, with 
his sword, to do the same office upon one of the Neutral 
Ground boys. 

Wynne and his fellow-freebooters, as may readily be be- 
lieved, had killed and disabled their share. One or two 
had escaped on foot to the bushes. So that there were only . 
two or three left as prisoners. 

The Mexican man and woman were missing; but, on 
search being made for them, they were discovered behind 
the pack of one of the mules, which had been shot dead by 
some random bullet, and had staggered off the road before 
falling. They were crouched on the leeward side thereof, 
quite safe from the storm. 

As soon as Gatewood had settled accounts with the 
Captain, he had turned about for another foe. Instead, 
however, of finding a foe, he turned just in time to catch 
in his arms the lady; who, having sat her horse in the 
middle of the road during those few terrible moments, too 
horrified to flee from the surrounding perils, or even to 
utter a scream, now fainted away, and, but for his timely 
aid, must have fallen to the ground. Dismounting, he bore 
her to the roadside, and, laying her gently on the sward, 
left her in charge of his Reverence, who hastened to her 
side. 

Whilst this more peaceful scene was being enacted, 
Wynne, observing that the young man — apparently re- 
solved to make up what time he had lost during the first 
onset — was about to put an ^nd to one of the Spaniards, 
who had no arms with which to defeiM himself, struck up ’ 
the descending weapon with his sabre. 

“Young gent!” said he coolly, “this here fight ’s over 
now. No cold blood, if you pleased 

The young man’s frenzied heat was so thoroughly 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 109 


calmed down by the quiet tone and manner of the veteran, 
that he not only desisted at once from his murderous in- 
tention, but appeared quite overcome with confusion, as he 
turned away and sheathed his sword. 

One of the Neutralians was killed, and three others were 
slightly wounded. Wynne, somehow or other, got a con- 
siderable scratch behind, which being fain to conceal, he 
said nothing about it, — although it must have smarted 
him a good deal, — hoping it would not be discovered, as, 
in that case, it would probably be made — owing to its 
particular locality — the subject of an ugly joke, by the 
other men. 

He and the three surviving men were standing in a 
group apart from the rest of the party, talking over the 
light. Two of them were displaying their wounds, and 
seemed rather proud of them, as they related the manner 
in which they were received. Wynne, with an unscathed 
front, — which he managed to keep towards them whilst 
discussing the matter, — was saying, in rather a derogatory 
tone: 

“ Boys, it ain’t the gittin’ of w^ounds that ’s to be proud 
of, as I ’ve always told ye: it ’s keepin’ dare of ’em that ’s 
the thing. It ’s a heap wuss on the inemy, and easier on 
ourse’ves.” 

“Somehow or ’nother, you ’re always moughty lucky, 
Wynne,” said one of his companions. 

“Yes, boys — as I jist now said, the raal thing is, to git 

through without gittin’ hurt at all. Any d d greeny 

can git a vein sprung, if he ’s a mind to.” 

One of them, however, chancing to notice his persistent 
maintenance of one position while the rest were constantly 
shifting about in free and easy style, and not knowing ex- 
actly how to account for this unwonted stiffness, took it 
into his suspicious and waggish head to investigate the 
10 


110 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

matter a posteriori. No sooner, however, did he commence 
to walk around the grim veteran, for the purpose of in- 
specting in that quarter, than the latter began to make a 
corresponding gyration, on a pivot, as it were. This con- 
firming the wag’s suspicions of something wrong, he con- 
tinued his circumambulation. 

This movement soon revolving Wynne far enough to ex- 
pose his rear to the others, discovered to them, through a 
long, clean cut in his nether garments, the little trickling 
stream which he was so jealously endeavoring to guard from 
observation. Of course, an uproarious laugh, at his ex- 
pense, was the immediate consequence — an opportunity to 
run the rig upon Wynne being by no means an every-day 
affair, and not to be foregone. 

“Boys,” said the veteran, nothing abashed, and examin- 
ing now, with his hand, for the first time, the extent of the 
injury, “I s’pose you ’re pokin’ fun at me ’cause I got my 
hurt in my behind-parts, instead o’ before, like your’n. 
But I don’t see what ’s to hinder ’most anybody from gittin’ 
hurt in the rare, now and then. A fellow can’t see what ’s 
goin’ on thar — so thar ’s no chance to fend off. But, boys, 
thar ’s no excuse gittin’ hurt in front, whar you can see 
exac’ly what the inemy ’s doin’. This cut behind here, in 
my buckskins and so on, was made while I was tryin’ to do 
the right thing in front. It was done by a stray whisk of 
some fellow’s edge-tool, while he was handlin’ of it rather 
careless. Bein’ as it come unbeknowns to me, how in the 
devil was I to fend off, I ’d like to know?” 

This, as Wynne probably intended it should, only made 
the mirth more explosive. 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. Ill 


CHAPTER XL 

Madam, this service have I done for you, 

To hazard life and rescue you. 

Vouchsafe me, for my meed, but one fair look. 

Two Gentlemen of Verona. 

I am angling now. 

Though you perceive me not how I give line. 

Much Ado About Nothing. 

M eanwhile, a very different scene was going for- 
ward in another part of this narrow field. 

No sooner had the priest seen that the young lady was 
reviving from her swoon, than he hurried to Gatewood, — 
who had been standing, a little apart, evidently an interested 
spectator of their proceedings, — and at once, with all the 
thorough politeness of a man of the world, introduced him- 
self as the Padre Clemente Delgado, of San Antonio ; and 
then, as openly and as politely, inquired by what name 
he should have the honor to address him. 

My name. Padre, is Gatewood,” replied the chief. 

‘‘ Captain Gatewood,” said the priest, leading him 
(nothing loth) forward to where the lady lay, with her 
head by this time on her brother’s knee, “allow me to 
introduce to you to my nephew, Don Juan Delgado — 
and his sister, the Senorita Isabella.” 

Young Delgado half rose from his cramped position, 
and most cordially shook the Captain’s hand. 

“Excuse my rising,” said the lady, in a faint, sweet 
voice, at the same time raising herself to her elbow and 
extending her hand. “I am yet too weak for that.” 

Is it any wonder that the stern Captain’s cheek was a 
trifle redder for the touch of that soft hand ? 


112 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


How it came about that these Creole Spaniards could 
speak English almost as well as their own language, shall 
appear in due time. 

“Isabella,” said the priest, “it is to this gentleman 
mainly that we are indebted for our rescue.” 

“ Oh, sir,” said she, “ I shall never be able to thank you 
enough. You don’t know the half your brave comrades 
and yourself have done for us. You saved, with your own 
hand, my dear brother’s life ; for I saw you kill the man 
who was about to murder him in cold blood. But you do 
not know that the fiend had told my brother, only a few 
moments before, that he should be hung in presence of my 
uncle and myself, as soon as we should reach the west 
bank of the Sabine. Oh, how dreadful ! ” 

At the bare thought of witnessing such a spectacle, the 
lady’s cheek, which had begun to show the flush of reac- 
tion, grew exceedingly pale again, and she would, no doubt, 
have relapsed into a swooning condition, had she not sunk 
back on the grass — her head still resting on her brother’s 
lap. 

Soon, however, regaining her previous degree of strength, 
she again propped herself on her elbow. 

“ I hope,” said she, casting a sad, inquiring look at the 
Captain, “ none of your noble little band were killed.” 

“ There lies one, Senorita, who will never get up again,” 
replied the Chief, indicating, by a glance, the direction of 
the body. 

“ Poor fellow ! ” she exclaimed, as her eye followed the 
Captain’s. “ He died for us ! ” 

“ Uncle, did you shrive him ? ” she said in Spanish, after 
a brief silence. 

“ No, Isabella,” replied the priest, in the same tongue ; 
“ it was impossible — he was killed dead on the spot.” 

“ Ah me ! war is a sad thing ! ” she said, with a deep 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 113 


sigh. “Captain Gatewood,” she went on in English, 
“ were any of your men wounded, who need attention ? I 
am not unskilled in dressing wounds ; I have had a good 
deal to do with them in our army. Perhaps I could — ” 

“ None badly hurt,” replied the Captain, touching his 
hat and bowing slightly. “Besides, I have a man in 
camp who calls himself Doctor. I believe he is capable of 
attending to all ordinary cases. So, we can dispense with 
those kind attentions which your feeble condition would 
scarcely justify. Your offer, however, is none the less 
appreciated, because declined. 

“Moreover,” resumed the Captain, after a pause, “I have 
to suggest, for your consideration, gentlemen, that, as soon 
as the Senorita is able, you should be on the move. This 
is not, by any means, the safest place in the world, not- 
withstanding our victory seems so complete. There is a 
considerable body of Spanish troops only a mile distant, 
on the west bank of the river; and as several of our enemies 
escaped in that direction, they may soon be down upon us 
with a great force, if we remain here.” 

“Mercy on us!” exclaimed the lady, shuddering, as she 
thought what scenes might be enacted again, if they tarried. 
“I am able to move now — this very moment!” 

With this, she rose to her feet, though with some difficulty. 

“Let us, for heaven’s sake,” she said, “stay no longer in 
this dreadful spot.” 

When Gatewood commenced his warning of the new 
dangers to which they were exposed, the worthy Padre 
was just about stepping away to give what spiritual con- 
solation he might, to one or two dying Gachupins, who 
were writhing and groaning near at hand ; and, if their 
frame of mind should justify it, to administer to them the 
holy viaticum, to the end that, having been devils long 
enough in this world, they should not continue to be such 
10 * 


114 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


in the next. One of these, he felt more than ordinary ob- 
ligations to assist in that way, — his recent dealings with 
him having been of a nature very unusual, not to say 
delicate, for a priest. In short, this was the fellow Avhom 
he had shot down with his own hand. Having himself 
given him his quietus — perhaps, anticipated the gallows 
by several years, during which time the wretch might pos- 
sibly have amended his life — his Reverence felt doubly 
bound to provide him with a passport that should take him 
through the right gate, when it should be known in the 
other world who had sent him thither. Gatewood’s last 
words, however, so damped the ecclesiastical ardor, that he 
decided to let the poor sinner take his chance, as he was; 
and at once set himself about preparing to place a greater 
distance between his own party and the merciless foe, in 
whose hands it was but too evident that even a priest could, 
by no means, feel safe. 

Gatewood now addressed himself to the three prisoners, 
who were bestowing on their wounded comrades what at- 
tention they could. 

“You are welcome to go free,” he said, in Spanish, — of 
which he had a very respectable knowledge, — “but I must 
emphatically advise you never again to set foot this side 
the Sabine, except it be to minister to your wounded friends 
here, or to bear them away to your own people. Of course, 
you will bury your own dead.” 

“Wynne,” said he, next, — as he advanced towards the 
hilarious group above described, — “you will see that our 
unfortunate friend, there, is properly buried.” 

“We ’ll try to do the right thing by Girdle, Cap’n, since 
he’s hit his last lick,” replied the old freebooter, with 
something wondrous like compassion in the tones of his 
deep voice. 

“Then,” pursued the Chief, “after concealing in the 


MORE THxiN SHE COULD BEAR. 115 


thicket the arms that are lying about, and the horses, with 
their equipments, you will hurry in to camp, and let the 
Lieutenant know : he is to bring half our force up, at once, 
to guard the road, as near this point as he can find a good 
camping-place. Tell him, he will suffer no more refugees 
to be followed into our territory under any circumstances 
whatever.” 

By Gatewood’s orders, his men now assisted the Mexican 
in transferring the pack from the dead mule to one of the 
other mules, — the delighted Mexican himself being pro- 
moted to the back of one of the captured horses. 

Whilst this transfer was going on, Gatewood informed the 
rescued party that, owing to the distance, it would be im- 
possible for them to reach Natchitoches that night, especially 
after the fatigues they had already undergone. And, as 
there was no intermediate stopping-place, he proposed that 
they should consent to lodge in a house which he had just 
built, he said, and furnished for himself. He added the 
information, that it had never yet been occupied, and that 
it stood about midway on the route to town. 

To this proposition — worn down, as they were, by the 
severity of their trials, no less than by the physical strain 
to which they had so long been subjected — they consented 
readily, and with no slight show of gratitude. 

“The house is a considerable distance off the road,” said 
Gatewood, “and accessible only by a bridle-path, which 
you could not follow without great difficulty, if at all. If 
you will accept my services, however, I will do myself the 
honor to guide you to the spot.” 

This last offer being accepted, the whole party mounted 
and moved off in pairs; the young lady and her brother 
taking the lead. The Mexican and his wife — for such the 
woman proved to be — with their charge, came next; for 
they had been left so nervous by the recent conflict, that 


116 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

they could not be persuaded to bring up the rear — a duty 
which, therefore, fell to the lot of Gatewood and the priest. 

The latter, not knowing what might again turn up of a 
sinister nature, had taken the precaution to secure, from 
among the slain, a belt containing pistols and a sword, and 
had girded the same about him, outside his ecclesiastical 
robe; so that he had lost, in a measure, his resemblance 
to the heavenly messenger that he was, bearing tidings of 
“peace on earth, and good will to men.^’ He looked, in- 
deed, far more as if commissioned to carry out that other 
motto, “ Peaceably, if we can — forcibly, if we must;” which, 
while it whispers full softly to us of heaven, smells, at times, 
loudly enough of hell and gunpowder to have been com- 
pounded by the grand Adversary himself, for the use of 
his special vicegerents on earth — tyrants — both monocrats 
and oligarchs. 

On the route, the Senorita and her brother — who had 
been fortunate enough to recover his own sword and pistols, 
which hung again at his belt — conversed, in Spanish, of 
the dangers they had escaped, and of the future prospects 
of the patriot cause, as well as of their own individual hopes 
and fears. 

“If we ever get back to San Antonio,” said he, as the 
colloquy warmed, “what debts of vengeance will I have to 
pay!” 

“Brother,” replied the lady, “I would rather hear you 
talk more of the cause, and less of vengeance.” 

“Not talk of vengeance!” he exclaimed, his brow dis- 
turbed by a scowl, doubtless intended far more for certain 
invisible foes than for his gentle sister. “J not talk of it? 
Not even talk of that which I hope so soon to actf Why, 
Isabella! have you then forgotten our poor father?” 

“Oh, no — Juan!” 

“Have you forgotten what our mother was forced to 
witness before she died?” 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 117 


“Oh, no— no!” 

“Have you forgotten, that, at this very moment, I should 
be feeding the buzzards, from a gibbet, but for — ” 

The sentence was broken off by the lady bursting into 
tears. 

“Oh, do not speak of those dreadful things!” she cried. 

“Then for God’s sake let me speak of others, which I 
have sworn to do more than speak of, if victory ever hovers 
around our standard again. Thus far, I have fought only 
for the cause. But now, I will tell you, Isabella, — I would 
rather be avenged on those fiends, than that all Mexico 
should be free. It was as much as I could do, to keep my 
hands off the prisoners we took in this fight. Had they 
been officers, I should have cut their throats on the spot.” 

As there was no reply made to these last remarks, the 
young man said nothing further, and the conversation 
ceased. 

The Mexican and his spouse had still remaining in them 
too much of the paralyzing influence of terror to w^ag their 
tongues to any tune whatever, except such occasional ex- 
pletives as were necessary to keep the pack-animals at their 
best gait ; and the utterance of even these few uncouth 
words was entirely mechanical, or they had, most probably, 
not been uttered. 

Gatewood and his Reverence discussed politics and war 
exclusively. The indefatigable Padre elicited from his 
companion more information touching himself, his men, 
his mode of life, his relations with the two governments 
between which he was situated, and the amount of force 
under his command, than that Chief had ever before deigned 
to impart to any one person since he had held sway in 
Heutralia. Nor is it at all likely he would have been so 
communicative on this occasion, but that he already knew 
pretty well what his Reverence was after in propounding 


118 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


his interrogatories — the looking, namely, for an opportunity 
to advance the interests of the discomfited patriots — and 
that he himself, when the auspicious time should arrive, 
might expect of his querist certain favors tending to the 
furtherance of his own individual interests in a particular 
direction — the holy man’s influence, he made no doubt, 
having great weight in that quarter. 

It must not, however, be supposed, for a moment, that 
the usually reticent Chief told all — or even the half — 
about himself He, in fact, told only such things as might 
not tend to disparage him in the good man’s eyes. With- 
out once declining to answer a query, yet never descending 
to downright falsehood, he managed to gloze things over, 
to reduce deeds of questionable morality to a fair seeming, 
and to round off* into a shapely form — if not into the true 
wave-line of moral beauty — certain ugly salient points, so 
that he of the alb set him down, in a corner of his heart, as 
a hero without a cause — a deficiency which he thought 
could easily enough be supplied. 

Gatewood, for his part, as soon as he had posted the 
Padre as fully as he dare do with regard to himself, set 
about inquiring into Mexican affairs, with a zeal altogether 
beyond his wont. It is perhaps not too much to say, that, 
during the next half hour, he obtained, in this way, more 
information on these matters than he had before done 
from all sources since the breaking out of the revolution — 
or, indeed, had cared to do. The intensity of his present 
interest in poor Mexico’s welfare seemed to be proportioned 
to the extreme suddenness with which it had sprung up. 
By the time they had reached the point where Gatewood’s 
services were needed to lead the party through the dense 
timber, his well-known prejudices against the priesthood 
may be said to have quite died out ; w^hile the righteous 
indignation which his Reverence had nursed, during his 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 119 


whole life, and had faithfully inculcated upon others to nurse, 
against those who could not see as distinctly as they might, 
the difference betwixt meum and tuum, had, in this one case, 
at least, come to nought. 

When they reached the point where the path which they 
were to pursue diverged from the road, Gatewood assumed 
the personal direction of the party. 

“ Now, if you will but follow me along this path,” he 
said, “ your fatigues will soon be ended for the day.” 


CHAPTER XII. 


Love hath chas’d sleep from my enthrall6d eyes. 


Two Gentlemen of Verona. 


I stalk about her door, 


Like a strange soul upon the Stygian bank, 
Staying for waftage. Troilus and Cressida. 



FTER riding a mile or two, they came, about dark. 


to a more open place in the wood ; the timber hav- 
ing apparently been trimmed away and thinned out. 
They now saw, a few rods ahead, a fire on the ground, and 
could distinguish the forms of two men sitting near it. 
These, on hearing the approaching steps, rose and came 
forward. 

“ Those are the men I left here to guard the premises,” 
explained Gatewood. 

As soon as the two men recognized and saluted their 
Chief, they returned to their seats on the ground, and, after 
their first surprise was over, took little further notice of 
the party. 

By this time, it was too dark, here among the trees, to 


120 MOKE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


distinguish more than the outlines of a double, one-stoiy 
house, with a covered way connecting the two portions. 
The ends of this passage-way were entirely open to the 
outer air. This, a common plan of building in that lati- 
tude, was designed not only to afford a convenient place 
to spread the meal, but, also, to catch the refreshing breezes 
as they flew. 

Whatever points of attraction the place may have pre- 
sented, they could not, at that late hour, be recognized. 
Nor is it probable they would have been duly appreciated, 
even had enough daylight remained to display them to 
advantage ; for the travellers were so completely w^orn out, 
that they all sought their several places of rest for the 
night, without even waiting for anything to stay their 
hunger, although this must have been considerable, and 
although the host assured them that there was the where- 
withal on the premises to provide a very good supper, if 
they would only have patience. 

The Senorita was shown to a comfortable bed in a room 
by herself. Two mattresses, on the floor of the only other 
apartment, fell to the lot of the Padre and his nephew. 
The Mexican couple, as soon as they could unpack the 
animals, and pitch the tent which composed part of their 
load, crept in on their customary blankets, — and soon 
the entire party were wrapped in that profound slumber, 
which, in a perfectly healthy person, always succeeds ex- 
cessive fatigue — except under certain circumstances, pres- 
ently to be most signally instanced. 

The Captain, after directing the men to take care of the 
horses, set -about regaling himself on the remains of the 
supper, which they had just finished discussing, consisting 
of bread and honey, together with some dried venison. 
He then brought away from the porch a buffalo-robe, and, 
spreading it beneath a tree, and divesting himself only of 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 121 

his coat and belt, lay down, and endeavored to compose 
himself to sleep. Vain, however, were his efforts. To be 
sure, the physical man was ready and willing enough, but 
there seemed to be some disquieting mental element, which, 
rebelling against the drowsy god, scorned his fetters. 

Rarely, indeed, was it that this man, with his grandly 
healthy physique, had to woo long for the recuperative 
favors of sleep. It mattered little how exciting had been 
the environments of the day ; he could turn, fresh from the 
stirring chase, or the din of arms, to the bare earth, with 
a surety of speedy repose. 

It was, however, to no purpose that he now closed his 
eyes and lay quiet : the mind still walked abroad. To no 
purpose that he essayed to compromise the state of things, 
by tossing and turning about in harmony with the mental 
workings : they would not be lulled by such rocking. To 
no purpose that he threw out, one by one, his brawny 
limbs, for coolness, and turned his burning brow to the 
breeze, for relief. 

For many long hours he lay with the unwonted fever 
tingling through his veins ; and if he slept at last, it was 
unconsciously. His thoughts ran so imperceptibly into 
tangible dreams ; and, when he woke, the dreams glided so 
naturally back into thoughts not a whit more tangible, 
that he knew not when he had passed, and repassed, the 
misty barrier between the sleeping and waking worlds. 
The burden alike of all those thoughts and dreams was 
the sweet face he had, that morning, encountered on the 
highway, — the soft, rounded form he had so lately borne 
in his arms. 

About midnight the last-quarter moon rose, making 
everything about these premises much more distinct. 
Among other objects to have been then and there seen, 
11 


122 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

was the stricken Captain, walking to and fro beneath the 
majestic trees. What little sleep he had been able to 
snatch had, long ago, flown his eyelids, and the^e had 
lifted, in good, wide earnest, to all the reality of his new 
situation. In the reaction which now took place, he felt 
chagrined — perhaps I may venture to say disgusted — 
with himself, partly on account of a very foolish resolution 
he had made, years ago, never to suffer his feelings to get 
into their present pitiable plight — as he thought it, or 
affected to think it — and partly for reasons which shall 
hereinafter appear. 

For several hours did he continue his lonely promenade 
and his humiliating cogitations, like a proud lion chafing 
even while he suffers the toiler’s net to close about his free 
limbs. Two or three times did he betake himself to his 
rude bed, — perhaps mechanically, for, no sooner did he 
find himself without the motion which had aided in work- 
ing off some of his gathering nervousness, than he would 
spring up again and resume his strides with atoning energy. 

“ I will go back to camp at once, and never see these 
strangers again,” thought he, snatching up his coat, and 
hastily putting it on. “ That ’s the way to end this — 
whatever it is.” 

Poor, weak creature — though at times so mighty in his 
manliness — affecting not to know what this was ! 

Here, I am very lotb to record of Captain Gatewood a 
joke of so serious a nature, that, had his stoical men ever 
found it out, would doubtless have lessened him materially 
in their estimation. Inasmuch, however, as it is altogether 
likely that not a single one of them is now living, or, if 
living, is, long since, in his dotage and will not be able to 
appreciate the joke, — and, moreover, as the recording 
thereof appertains to my duty as a faithful chronicler of 
events that transpired in the evanescent kingdom of Neu- 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 12'3 

tralia, — I do not very clearly see how I am to shirk that 
duty. 

In fact, now that I come to think the matter over again, 
this incident, trivial as it may seem, is the hinge, as it were, 
on which my whole narrative turns ; for, had it not oc- 
curred, the Captain would never have seen the Sehorita 
again, — in which case this story would have been rendered 
entirely too barren and uninteresting to come before you, 
the gentle reader. 

What I hint of, then, is neither more nor less than an 
instance of the Chief’s absent-mindedness ; which, consid- 
ering the cause of it, no less than its extent, would possibly 
have sufficed to depose him from absolute sway in his do- 
minions. And it will do more to show the reader into 
what a forlorn condition this grim bandit was lapsing, 
and that, too, at no very tardy rate — in fact, had already 
lapsed — than whole pages, devoted to the dreary topic, 
could possibly effect. 

Having resolved to fly to Camp Wildwood for safety 
from this new danger, he girded his armed belt about him, 
and struck off through the woods, on foot, exclaiming, as 
he did so; 

“Never will I set eye on her again — for if I do, I shall 
henceforth be her vassal, and follow her to the ends of the 
earth.” 

He had gone some two miles, with rapid stride, when he 
stopped short in his path. 

“My horse! By the eternal powers! I ’ve forgotten my 
horse,” he exclaimed, bringing his fist down upon the air 
with a force which, but for the accompanying oath, would 
well have become some fashionably thundering pulpit- 
orator. “Abstracted — mazed — my very wits in riot — I 
do verily believe.” 

Now, it is but simple justice to the bewildered Captain, 


124 MOEE THA.N SHE COULD BEAR. 


to say, that he travelled much oftener on foot than on 
horseback through these haunts, because they were densely 
timbered, and could, in that way, be much more easily 
threaded, and the short cuts be more readily availed of. 
Force of habit, therefore, had much to do with his forgetting 
his horse on the present occasion, — though the peculiar 
state of the inner man had undoubtedly its share of in- 
fluence. One thing is certain, that he was never before 
guilty of such a gross blunder, nor of anything akin to it. 

“It ’s very clear I must return.” He thus mused, as he 
stood halting between two opinions. “It would be a pretty 
story, indeed, to go the round of camp. ‘The Captain for- 
got his horse.’ ‘Walked ten miles before he found it out.’ 
‘Why, he ’s crazy — that ’s just the long and short of it.’ 
This is what they will say. And then the worst of it is, 
they may guess at the cause of it all. ‘What! a woman 
upset himf Never.’ ‘You may pooh-pooh as much as 
you please, but I tell you it^s soJ ‘How changed he must 
be, then I ’ ‘ Changed ! I rather reckon he is changed. 

AVhy, he just ain’t the same man.’ 

“Yes — I must go back. But, then, there are the two 
boys. They ’ll be stirring by the time I get there ; and 
what, in heaven’s name, would they think, to see me coming 
in at peep of day? How account to themf 

“Ah, yes — I have it now: happy thought! It ’s about 
the hour for game; I see the day is just breaking. A deer 
on the lake-shore. No — that’s rather uncertain. The 
turkey-roost, then, that I passed a few rods back: how will 
that do? The very thing! I ’ll take in, with me, a brace 
of fine fat gobblers, for breakfast. And who ’ll suspect I 
got what I did n’t go in search of?” So musing, he re- 
traced his steps. 

“But, then,” thought he, “I shalh again come under the 
spell of those bewitching eyes.” On thinking of this, he 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 125 

stopped. Only for a moment, however. “But I know 
iR^t” — here he started off again — “whether to be glad or 
grieved for that Well, be it so, since fate so wills it.— 
Poor Filly ! you little know, you sweet little pet ! what a 
rival you are to have in these coming days. I thought I 
liked Filly about as much as I could ever like anybody. 
But — pshaw ! ” 

When he reached the turkey-roost, he could see the 
birds sitting aloft, in fancied security; but there was not 
yet quite daylight enough in the dense woods to afford him 
a sure aim. He, therefore, instead of waiting for more 
light from that source, availed himself of the moon, which 
was sailing aloft, about one-fourth of its allotted distance 
across the heavens. 

This is a very common device among frontiersmen, — 
sometimes even in the middle of the night, — the time 
being chosen according to the position of the moon. Gate- 
■wood, by shifting his own position to suit, put one of the 
largest and plumpest-looking of his intended victims ex- 
actly between himself and the orb above, and, drawing a 
pistol, brought him to the ground, with scarcely a flap of 
the wings. This roost having, probably, never before been 
fired into, nearly all the birds remained in situ; so, the 
Captain had no trouble in securing another. Then, con- 
necting their legs by means of a piece of bark stripped 
from a young pecan shoot, he swung them over his shoulder 
and resumed his way. 

As he strode up to the house, he found the Mexican and 
his wife, — who had probably been awakened thus early by 
the gnawings of hunger after their long fast, — conferring 
with the two men, who understood a little Spanish. In 
fact, all the Neutralians, for their own convenience, had 
managed to pick up a more or less imperfect knowledge of 
that tongue. The conversation which was going on touched 
11 * 


126 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


the amount and quality of raw material available for the 
morning meal, and its whereabouts ; the Mexicans, wishing, 
they said, to prepare breakfast for all concerned. 

“ Dress these fowls,” said Gatewood, laying the same on 
the leaves before the Mexicans. Breadstuifs and coffee 
you ’ll find in the house.” 

“ Boys,” said he, — though he turned to the men, as he 
said it, — “ can’t you manage to catch some fish in the lake?” 

If we only had the tackle. Captain.” 

“You ’ll find that in the boat.” 

The men moved ofi* at once toward the lake, while their 
Chief, seeking again his bed under the trees, actually suc- 
ceeded in getting an hour or two of good, sound sleep. 
The balmy morning air, in which he had been so freely 
circulating, seemed to have quieted, a little, the tumult of 
his breast. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


I like this place, 


And willingly could waste my time in it. — Measure for Measure. 

There is a fair behaviour in thee, Captain, 

And though that nature with a beauteous wall 

Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee 

I will believe thou hast a mind that suits 

With this thy fair and outward character. — Twelfth Night. 

Bait the hook well : this fish will bite. — Much Ado About Nothing. 
HE travellers did not wake until Stefanita, the Mexi- 



X can woman, knocked at their respective doors, an- 
nouncing breakfast ready to be dished. It being a mild 
autumn morning, she had spread the table beneath the 
trees, so that, when they all sat down to the repast, a good 
opportunity presented to view their surroundings. 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 127 


** What a beautiful prospect you have here, Captain Gate- 
wood,” exclaimed the Senorita, after the morning greeting, 
as she seated herself and looked down and out upon the 
lake near at hand, — brought into pretty full view, from 
that elevated point, by a judicious trimming of the inter- 
vening timber. 

“ Yes, Senorita,” replied the Chief; “the prospect is a 
fine one ; though this country, being so nearly level as it 
is, affords but few attractive situations — at least to any 
one accustomed to a more diversified surface. I think 
that, for beauty and convenience combined, this is prefer- 
able to any between the Red and the Sabine. I believe I 
know almost every foot of territory between the two rivers, 
and I selected this over them all without any hesitation.” 

That was truly a beautiful view before them ; and the 
lady, good as her physical appetite must have been, seemed 
to forget her hunger for some minutes, and to be revelling 
in the aesthetic feast spread before her. 

The length of the lake, from the northern extremity, at 
which the house was situated, to the farthest southern 
limit, was probably six miles ; its width, made very irregu- 
lar by innumerable indentations of the land, varied from 
half a mile to three miles. The woods girded it about in 
one unbroken circuit, and adapted their embrace to every 
freakish meander of its shore. Water-loving cypresses 
composed its immediate fringe, to the exclusion of all other 
kinds of trees, touching gently its face with their dark 
drooping boughs, like a mother soothing her nursling to 
rest. 

Back of this gloomy growth, and rising gradually above 
it as the ground became more elevated further from the lake, 
stood a variety of deciduous trees still retaining their leaves, 
— all the more lovely from their gorgeous autumn hues. 

The sun had risen high enough to touch the leafy slope 


128 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


of the western shore, and impinged so brightly upon the 
leaves as to make them glow and fairly kindle until, 
indeed, you would almost have thought the gold and crim- 
son would start itito flame. 

There being, at this early hour, not a breath of air to 
ruffle the lake, its glassy surface doubled this mass of gor- 
geous foliage with such perfect distinctness in all its mi- 
nutest details, that it was impossible for the nicest eye to 
draw the line dividing the real object from its image in 
the water. 

Still further variety was afforded by the many indenta- 
tions of the shore; while numerous little cypress-grown 
islands, some isolated, others in clusters, seemed like so 
many emeralds set in the facet of a diamond — itself being 
set around with emerald, and ruby, and gold. 

“Oh, uncle!” said Isabella, starting abruptly from the 
surve}’’ which had, for a few minutes, been engrossing her 
attention, to the exclusion of her speech, “ don’t you think 
we might find some such place for our sojourn in this 
region, instead of going into the town ? 1 should like it so 
much better ; and we all would, I think.” 

This suggestion was made on the impulse of the mo- 
ment, and without the most remote intention of conveying 
any sort of hint whatever to their guest. The fair speaker 
was, therefore, perceptibly confused when the latter said, 
without awaiting the priest’s reply : 

“ When the Senorita spoke, I was just about to submit a 
proposition bearing on that very point. In fact, I thought 
of doing so yesterday, and concluded to defer it only 
because you would all be better prepared to entertain it 
after seeing for yourselves these premises and their sur- 
roundings. This house is entirely at your service, from 
this moment, with everything in it, — just as long as you 
choose to stay here.” 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 129 

‘‘ Captain, I did not mean — I only meant — ” began 
the lady, coloring. 

“I know exactly how it was,” said Gatewood, as she 
hesitated. “Yon merely meant, that if an eligible place 
could be found, you would prefer it to the town ; and you 
did n’t mean to give the least hint in the world. In other 
words,” continued he, smiling, as though he considered her 
mistake as a rather good little joke at her expense, “ you 
not only meant all you said, but you said all you meant. 
And allow me to hope that your merely seeming to give a 
hint, when we all know that not the shadow of one was 
intended, may not weigh to determine you against this 
offer, which I make in good faith.” 

The young man glanced at his uncle, as though he 
thought it the latter’s place to answer, but 'seeing that he 
looked much more as if revolving the proposition in his 
mind than thinking of a reply, took it upon himself — 
inasmuch as a pause, just here, would be exceedingly em- 
barrassing — to say : 

“Captain, you are too kind. We owe you too much 
already. We would, indeed, put up with many inconven- 
iences before we would think of turning you out of your 
house for our own accommodation.” 

“Of course,” said Isabella, in tones which implied that 
she was somewhat indignant that such a thing should for 
a moment be thought of. 

“Oh,” replied the Chief, smiling pleasantly, “it would 
not be turning me out, for I have never yet occupied the 
house, and what is more, I had no very definite plans on 
the subject. I had the building put up, because I am 
occasionally seized with hankerings after the scenes of 
civilization, which I left years ago. I thought that, when- 
ever these fits should return, I might resort to this place, 
— perhaps with a friend or two, — and spend a few days, 

I 


130 MOEE THAN SHE COULD BEAE. 


when I have no doubt satiety would again drive me back 
to the wild woods. I. can assure you, that, if it will serve 
your purpose in the slightest degree, your remaining here 
would put me to no manner of inconvenience. Moreover, 
you will find all the houses in town filled to their utmost 
capacity by your unfortunate countrymen. A tent, or 
some miserable shed, would be the only habitation you 
could hope to secure there at present.’’ 

“ Taking all things into consideration,” said the Padre, 
— emerging out of what seemed to be a brown study, and 
yet passing so easily into the discussion that it was evident 
he had heard all that had been said, — “it seems to me 
that our friend’s generous offer had better be availed of. 
That is, on the two conditions, that he will agree to rent 
the house to us, and that he will be our guest whenever 
he feels an inclination to cheer us with his society.” 

From subsequent developments, it is quite probable that 
both the man of war and the man of peace had their ulte- 
rior objects — the one in making, the other in accepting, 
this offer. Nor is it by any means impossible that each 
knew pretty well what the other’s object was, — though 
neither could have suspected that the other knew. The 
brother and sister, for their part, must have supposed that 
the Captain’s sympathy with their misfortunes was his 
only motive in the generous act ; that he would have done 
as much for any one else under like circumstances ; and 
that their uncle’s recommendation to abide here, arose 
from his thinking, after mature reflection, that nothing 
else could well be done, at least for the present. 

“ Padre,” replied Gatewood, coloring, “ even were I 
sordid enough to accept, from persons who are so unfortu- 
nate as to have neither home nor country, pay for what 
takes nothing out of my own pocket, I should find that the 
latter part of your proposition transfers the burden of debt 
entirely upon me.” 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 131 


“ Then, Captain,” replied the priest, “ since these young 
people have put themselves under my charge during our 
banishment, I will venture to say, in behalf of our whole 
party, that we will most gladly accept your offer, and 
make your house our home, if you will likewise make it 
yours whenever your duties or your inclinations do not 
call you elsewhere.” 

“I shall look in upon you, whenever I can,” replied the 
Captain ; “and when I do so, I make no doubt the place 
will appear to me, as much as any place in the world ever 
can again appear, like home ; for though that was once a 
magic word with me, it has long since lost its peculiar 
charms, — and, I am afraid, will never regain them.” 

All were struck with the speaker’s sadness, as he uttered 
these words; and this being the first time they had noticed 
any exhibition of the kind on his part, a considerable pause 
ensued upon the sudden transition. 

At length the Senorita — who, probably, had not yet 
entirely recovered from the shock which her maidenly 
modesty had, some time back, sustained — suggested a new 
difficulty, apparently by way of proving that she was not 
so anxious to abide here as her unlucky “hint” might seem 
to imply. 

“But, uncle,” said she, “do you think we would be safe 
here from the Gachupins?” 

“Oh,” said Gatewood, anticipating the priest’s reply, “I 
have already provided against that. Intending — as I be- 
lieve I before remarked — to make this very proposition, as 
soon as yesterday’s fight was over, I sent an order to my 
lieutenant, to move half our force to a position suitable for 
guarding the road. I have no doubt the order has already 
been carried out. So, you may rest assured, Senorita, there 
can be no further danger.” 

At this point, therefore, the matter of residence was 


132 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

definitely settled ; and the three fugitives became adopted 
citizens of Neutralia. 

The reader will, no doubt, have noticed that Gatewood’s 
manner, during the breakfast-scene, indicated that he had 
already rallied in a wonderful, not to say unnatural, degree, 
from his previous forlorn and abstracted condition. This 
abrupt transformation -was, in great measure, brought about 
by his having suddenly emerged from a distressing state 
of uncertainty, and his having resolved, irrevocably, on a 
definite plan of action. He was already bound by a tie 
previously hinted at, which, although it was comparatively 
feeble, he was very loth to sever, from the downright cruelty 
which the act would involve; and it was the remorse felt 
by him at the thought of rending this connection, to give 
place to another, that had played no small part in his pre- 
vious bewilderment. But, once resolved on this unjust 
course, which an inexorable fate seemed — so at least he 
thought — to have marked out for him, he thrust the un- 
lovely subject from his mind with that stern force of habit, 
which one, with such abnormal surroundings as his, almost 
inevitably acquires. 

Henceforth, he was to lead a sort of double life, so to 
speak: was to have one style of manners for the camp — 
much the same old style that we have already seen — and 
another for this cottage by the lake. Nor was it at all 
difficult for him to play these two parts, widely diverse 
though they may seem. In the one, he but continued what 
he had been acting for years, with the wilds for a stage; 
ill the other, he but went back to the time when he was 
the cynosure of lovely eyes, amid drawing-room splendors. 
And the latter came to him so naturally now, that, of the 
two, it seemed the least like acting. 

There had once been a chord in his heart, which gave forth 
sweet music. He long had deemed the chord shattered — 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 133 


the music stilled forever. Now, he found that the one had 
but slept, because the other had been untuned by a cruel, 
careless hand. Here, where she was least to be expected, 
a fair Euterpe had seized upon the harp-like instrument, 
attuned it anew, and awakened again the olden tones, 
whose echo even he had long ceased to recall, — for, years 
ago, his love — or what he had but too fondly deemed such 
— had settled into hate. 


CHAPTEE XIV. 

To do this deed 

Promotion follows. — Winter*s Tale, 

Policy sits above conscience. — Timon of Athens. 

T he Padre having learned from Gatewood, in their 
conversation of the preceding day, that Bernardo 
Gutierrez had reached Natchitoches, resolved to seek him 
out with the view of conferring about the cause that lay so 
near their hearts. He, accordingly, set out for that pur- 
pose soon after breakfast. 

Bernardo and his Beverence met like the friends that 
they had long been, and as becomes brothers in a common 
cause. As soon as they had recounted to each other their 
adventures ‘in escaping from the enemy, the main subject 
which had brought them together was discussed ; the 
General enlightening the Padre with reference to matters 
recently put in train for an invasion of Texas. Magee, 
who was to direct the campaign, had already gone to New 
Orleans to secure volunteers and solicit means to carry on 
the w^ar. One part of the arrangement was, that, on his 
12 


134 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

way, he was to stop at Alexandria, on Red River, and 
bring to bear all the influence he could command to have 
Gatewood’s men released from confinement, — they having 
been sent to that point for trial, which had resulted, as we 
have before said, in their being sentenced to the penitentiary. 

This, he hoped, would prove to be one step towards 
reconciling the outraged lords of the Neutral Ground. 
Whether or not their co-operation could be then secured, 
was another question, Bernardo said, and, he feared, a very 
doubtful one, — he himself having had a conference with 
their Chief, on the subject, and having found him wholly 
irreconcilable, although he had brought to bear upon him 
all the offers and inducements he could think of. Appar- 
ently irritated by the General’s persistence, he, at last, 
abruptly closed the interview, with the declaration that 
nothing on God’s earth would induce him to ask his men 
to serve under Magee; and that he well knew they would 
never do so without his solicitation. 

Colonel Davenport — whose co-operation was alluded to 
in a previous chapter as probable — had promised, not only 
to act as quartermaster to the proposed expedition, but also 
to expend liberally from his own funds, in raising supplies. 
He had, moreover, pledged himself to carry out a suggestion 
of his own, approved by Bernardo, — namely, to secure the 
services of the Cushatta Indians, a friendly tribe, whose 
village was about fifty miles north of Natchitoches. To 
be sure, they had been reduced, by incessant wars, to the 
pitiful number of about twenty braves, but as these were 
accounted among the most fearless of all the southern 
tribes, and, as they nursed the bitterest hostility against 
the Spaniards, their co-operation was considered material, 
when it was but too evident that, at the very best, only a 
meagre force could be raised. For, by the latest gazettes 
from the United States, it appeared that they themselves 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 135 


were on the eve of being invaded by Great Britain. Of 
course, comparatively few would be willing to leave their 
native country, at such a crisis, to take up arms in a foreign 
cause. 

Manchaca, a bold Mexican of Nacogdoches, possessing 
unbounded energy, with a strong, though uncultivated, 
mind, and having great influence with his countrymen 
throughout the province of Texas, was already at work 
intriguing against the Spanish authorities. 

“I shall go myself to Washington, in a few days,” said 
Bernardo, “to sound the government there on the subject. 
If they will give us no material aid — and I can hardly 
hope they will — I shall endeavor to secure some sort of 
pledge, that they will, at least, not interfere with our 
operations, which, in case they do, must necessarily abort.” 

“I wish. General,” said the Padre, rather abruptly, “you 
would take my nephew, Juan, with you. I have good 
reason to think he is hatching some rash plot of private 
vengeance.” 

“God knows, he has sufficient reason,” replied Bernardo. 

“ But, General, such acts never advance a cause like ours ; 
though it is consoling to know that tyrants sometimes get 
their dues in that way.” 

“What particular scheme do you think Juan is con- 
cocting?” 

“How he can get at Salcedo, to assassinate him. I be- 
lieve he thinks of little else, day or night.” 

“That is sheer madness. He could not accomplish it — 
and would only lose his own life in the attempt. Tell him, 
I should like him to accompany me. Indeed, I see not 
wherein he can render aid here, while, on the other hand, 
his fine personal appearance, and his fascinating manners 
— if he chooses to make good use of them — will do much 
to enlist the sympathies of such as we may meet at the seat 


136 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


of government. Yes — by all means, Padre, tell him he 
must go with me — he will be of great service. And if you 
are willing to accept the charge, I will leave our interests 
in this quarter in your care until my return. I know they 
could not be placed in better hands, provided you can see 
your way clearly to accept the trust. Our cause owes so 
much already to men of your calling, that I cannot but 
hope — ’’ 

“Have no doubt. General, but that I will give you my 
most earnest aid. I shrink from nothing that will tend to 
advance the cause. I desire no rest from labor, mental or 
bodily, until Texas, at least, is free — if not all Mexico. 
Use me as you will.” 

“ Well, then. Father, I must say that, despite the omi- 
nous rebuffs we have received from Gatewood, I should 
like you to try your powers of persuasion upon him. His 
co-operation is so important — indeed, I may say, vital — 
to our success, that I am loth to give him up without at 
least one more effort. Perhaps, in your ecclesiastical capa- 
city, you might — ” 

“Nay — I am well assured I can do nothing in the 
matter, with him, or his, as a priest. They are all godless 
heathens or heretics, I warrant you, and would laugh my 
efforts to scorn, since they would at once penetrate my 
object, imperfectly cloaked as, in that case, it would be, by 
religion. In the course of my late dealings with the Chief, 
however, — if I be not greatly mistaken, — I observed that 
in him on which I may venture to hang a hope, if adroitly 
dealt with and carefully fostered. But it wdll require 
time, even assuming the truth of my suspicions. So, 
you must have patience. I assure you, however, there 
shall be no delay in initiating my scheme; nor shall any 
opportunity to forward it be lost. By the time you shall 
have returned from your contemplated journey, I hope to 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 137 

have things in train for a favorable issue of my project — 
or, shall be prepared to pronounce it utterly hopeless.” 

With this understanding — based on a mysterious hint 
which left Bernardo utterly in the dark as to the means to 
be used — the soldier and the priest separated. 

The Padre Clemente Delgado was one of those thousand 
malcontent priests of whom, and of whose grievances, Ber- 
nardo, in his interview with Lieutenant Magee, gave a 
somewhat minute account. Let it not be imagined, how- 
ever, that the Father was an ordinary priest, — or, for the 
matter of that, an ordinary person, in any sense. He was 
a man of uncommon natural abilities. These had been ex- 
panded by a thorough education in the best colleges of 
Mexico ; and had been made infinitely more available by 
an easy address and insinuating manners acquired by 
spending several years among the first circles of the capi- 
tal, which, at that time, reflected all the courtly accom- 
plishments of Madrid. 

Not only was he talented and well-bred, but he possessed, 
likewise, much energy, great tenacity of purpose, and an 
unbounded ambition, — or, rather, of the last-named attri- 
bute, it may perhaps be more correctly said to have pos- 
* sessed him. 

I am sorry to confirm the suspicions which have probably 
already been awakened in the mind of the reader by this 
description, — namely, that his Beverence^s patriotism, al- 
though not begotten of motives of personal preferment, was 
nevertheless greatly intensified thereby. He, who, with 
all his rare endowments, would, if the present state of 
things continued, be doomed to an humble chasuble, all his 
days, longed to wield a bishop’s staff, or even an archi- 
episcopal crosier. Nor of the many aspirants thereto, 
— and it may safely be said, “their name was legion” — 
12 * 


138 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


could there, probably, have been found, in all Mexico, one 
more worthy of the dignity. 

This, to be sure, is no great compliment to the priest- 
hood of that country ; but, so far as one can judge from 
such sources of information as are at present accessible, it 
is quite as flattering a notice as that body deserve, or, 
indeed, are likely to get from any unprejudiced chronicler. 

But unless the patriot cause could be sustained to its 
final triumph, there was no earthly hope that his Rever- 
ence would ever become a high church-dignitary. 

With such an ambition, he was, of course, always on the 
alert for means tending to its gratification. Among these 
means, he had already reckoned the probabilities of Gate- 
wood becoming attached to Isabella. Indeed, from the 
moment he had learned, from the Chieftain’s own lips, the 
formidable force at his disposal, he had resolved to avail 
himself of every advantage which such an attachment 
would aflbrd to win him to the patriot cause. So common 
a thing was it for both young and middle-aged men to fall 
in love with his beautiful niece, that he looked with much 
certainty to such a termination of this alfair, provided 
only he could so manoeuvre as to throw them two or three 
times into each other’s society. 

This being the case, it may readily be conceived that he* 
was much pleased at the turn aflTairs had taken concerning 
the occupation of the house on the lake. Of course, it did 
not enter into his calculations that Isabella would reciprocate 
the feeling. It would be no proper match for her, he well 
knew. But, then, she might be induced to lead him on, 
step by step, — as gifted women too often do, — throwing 
out a lure of hope now and then, with however no intention, 
on the one side at least, of its ever being realized, — until, 
at length, w^hen the main goal should be gained, and there 
should be no longer any need of deception, the mask she 


MOEE TUAN SHE COULD BEAE. 139 

had worn and the heart she had won could be, alike, thrown 
aside. 

It was, in short, to be the old tale over again, of love, 
coquetry, and politics ; and had the holy man, when he 
prayed for the success of his scheme, prayed, also, that it 
might not finally prove calamitous to the parties involved, 
he would, probably, have made better work, in the end, — 
in the sight of both God and man. 

Gatewood was not a man to postpone long what he had 
once fully resolved on. He very naturally judged that 
one occupying his anomalous relation to the world, and to 
society, could nurse no reasonable hope of ever winning, 
by ordinary means alone, — such as proofs of steadfast de- 
votion, and the setting off and display of personal comeliness 
and accomplishments, — the fair hand he aspired to. At 
least, he had no notion of trusting to such means, alone, to 
effect an object so vital to his future happiness as he had 
found this object to be. He was, however, as well aware 
as any, that, often, where unselfish love cannot be returned 
in kind, ambition and interests, adroitly wrought upon by 
a suitor, become powerful auxiliaries in winning the hand 
— the heart (ah, hazardous experiment that makes so many 
wrecks!) to be won afterwards, by that closer communion 
which wedlock affords. 

Scarcely, therefore, had the Padre left for Natchitoches, 
before Gatewood set himself about ascertaining the most 
salient points in the character of the young lady, and — 
though rather incidentally — in that of her brother, with 
the view of subserving what was to be henceforth the end 
and aim of his hitherto all but aimless life. These assail- 
able points, being duly reconnoitred, he would bring to bear 
upon them all he possessed of love’s enginery and fixtures, 
or he would capture the fortress of her heart by slow ap- 


140 MORE THAN SITE COULD BEAR. 


proaclies, by storm, or, if all these should fail him, even by 
the forlorn hope itself — whatever that might prove to be, 
in this particular case. 

He had already abundant reason to suspect that ambition 
was the Padre’s ruling passion. He now ascertained, be- 
yond all doubt, in the’ conversation which he held with the 
brother and sister, on the all -engrossing subject of the 
revolution in Mexico, that vengeance for the murder of his 
friends and relatives held absolute sway in the former’s 
heart, — while in the case of the sister, pure loVe of her 
country, and a desire to accomplish its independence, oc- 
cupied her bosom to the exclusion of almost everything 
else. 

During the brief time that he was eliciting this informa- 
tion, Gatewood betrayed much interest in the fate of Mexico, 
and still more in that of Texas, the Senorita’s native pro- 
vince ; and it soon became evident that his sympathies 
were fairly enlisted. Fearing, however, that the next step 
would be to solicit his substantial aid, and not feeling that 
the proper time had arrived in his affairs for the profitable 
discussion of that particular branch of the subject, he took 
himself off rather abruptly, — promising, however, at their 
earnest invitation, to visit them before many days. 

“ Between the ambition of the priest, the fierce passions 
of the brother, and the Senorita's patriotism,” — such were 
the meditations of the Captain as he rode back to camp, — 
*‘my chances are not so very desperate. I believe that 
woman will do anything to see her native province free: 
she is clearly an enthusiast on the subject. \Yell, if she 
will but smile on my suit, Texas shall be free, or it shall be 
no fault of mine. 

“The Padre, too, shall have his crozier, and Juan his 
fill of blood. Her hand is my price, and for that I would 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 141 


sell myself to the very Devil. But then, there is another 
question, Will she sell to the Devil? I know myself un- 
worthy of her, yet would I move earth and hell to win her. 
The other place, I can never hope to move — nor can the 
■ like of me.” 

Such were the speculations that occupied the Captain, 
as he approached Camp Wildwood. Indeed, during his 
whole lonely ride through the forest, on that eventful 
morning, his new acquaintances formed the staple of his 
thoughts. 


CHAPTER XV. 


This is the prettiest low-born lass that ever 

Ran on the green sward ; nothing she does or seems 

But smacks of something greater than herself, 


Too noble for this place. 


Winter^ s Tale. 


By ’r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well . — Twelfth Night. 

H, what a beautiful morning! ” exclaimed Filly, as she 



Vy roused from her slumbers, in the tent appropriated to 
her special use, and peered out through a loophole. “ I ’m 
so glad ! ‘ Happy the bride the sun shines on.’ I must 

gather my flowers before Senor returns. They said he 
would be back by noon. 

“ Suppose he had been killed in that horrid fight ! Oh, 
what should I have done? I should have been praying, 
now, to die too, instead of being so happy. Why should 
there be any bloodshed on the earth ? Why can’t men 
live at peace with each other? How I do wish Senor 
would change his wild ways, and live a quiet life. Ah 
me I I can only hope and trust the time may soon come 
when he will.” 


142 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

The girl soon made her toilet, and hastened to dispatch 
the breakfast prepared and spread for her by the wife of 
one of the men, who occupied an adjoining tent. She was 
the only woman who was allowed to remain within the 
purlieus of the camp, — her main office, while there, being 
to attend upon the girl. 

Alas, poor Filly ! that wild camp, and one other far 
wilder even than that, made up nearly all she had ‘ever yet 
seen of the wide, wide world. 

Tlie girl was soon on her way to the wood, accompanied 
by Grim, an immense dog, with short, black liair, bearing 
on his broad face and brawny breast many a scar, which 
marked him as the veteran of a thousand tooth-and-claw 
battles with the wild beasts of Neutralia. 

This formidable-looking dog carried Filly’s basket in 
his mouth, having volunteered to perform that supereroga- 
tory duty, — his regular functions, on such occasions, going 
no further than simply protecting his young mistress from 
the various dangers to which so frail a wanderer through 
such howling wilds must necessarily be, at times, exposed. 

Grim was a mystery, and always had been, from the 
start. His origin was a mystery. He was, in short, a 
canine foundling. The earliest authentic account of him 
was, that he turned up, one morning, in the rear of the 
Captain’s tent, without any credentials whatsoever touching 
his ancestry. Grim was then in the first blush of puppy- 
hood, his eyes not having opened upon this wicked world. 
But his mouth had opened, — and to some purpose, since 
it was by its aid that he was enabled to rouse the Captain 
from his slumbers at an untimely hour. 

The latter, on hearing the unwonted din, right under his 
nose, rushed out, and finding an ugly, and, withal, as 
mongrel-looking a piece of dog-flesh as is often seen, (the 
Captain was very particular about the breed of his pups,) 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 143 


was so incensed that he snatched down a keen cutlass, 
snatched up the pup by the back of its neck, and was 
about to stop the ill-timed serenade, by the summary pro- 
cess of slitting the noisy gullet that gave it passage. 

At this terrible crisis in Grim’s affairs. Filly rushed 
forth from the tent, like his good angel, to the rescue. 
With her usual tones, looks, and gestures of eloquence, she 
insisted on the poor thing’s life being spared. The infu- 
riated Captain arrested the deadly weapon midway in its 
sweep, to consider; and for him to consider what Filly 
proposed, was, with scarcely an exception, to grant it. He 
made no exception to the rule on this occasion, but, at the 
same time, gave her to understand, that the sentence which 
had just been revoked, should be instantly carried into 
execution if that foundling’s yoice should ever be heard 
again, to his annoyance. 

Filly’s first care was to take the pup out of the Cap- 
tain’s sight and hearing. She next prevailed on one of the 
men to fashion, somewhere away off in the wood, a rude 
kennel of earth and logs. There she kept him, and fed 
him regularly with her own hands, until he had attained 
a very great size; when — relying perhaps on his muscle 
for his vindication — she ventured one day to take him 
back to the tent. 

The Captain had, by this time, forgotten all about the 
well-nigh tragic occurrence; and so, the girl had to intro- 
duce to him her protege as the poor orphan pup whom she 
had saved from a bloody execution. 

“But,” said she, “he has no name yet, Senor: what shall 
we call him?” 

“Well, Filly,” replied the Captain, after a little time to 
think, during which he closely eyed the quadrupedal giant 
before him, “he is so very ugly, suppose we call him Grim” 

Filly, who invariably deferred to the Captain’s taste in 


144 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


matters of that sort, agreed at once, and it was “Grim” 
from that day forth. 

The Captain, in consideration of the dog’s extraordinary 
size, for his years — or rather, months, his first anniversary 
not having yet come about — as well as his sagacity, his 
courage, and last, though not least, his remarkably good 
temper when not foiled in his manifest rights, — all which 
traits the huge pup soon proved, beyond cavil, that he 
possessed, — took him into high favor. The height of the 
Captain’s ambition, in the matter of dogs, had been, all 
along, to find one that could grapple, single-handed, with 
the largest bears, panthers, wolves, and, in fact, with any 
animal that frequented the Neutral Ground, including man 
himself, provided he had only his natural weapons, or, at 
most, a bludgeon; and when he looked upon Grim, and 
thought what he was likely to be, when fully developed 
both in mind and body, he concluded that, if there ever 
was, or ever would be, a dog that could “fill the bill,” 
Grim was the dog. So, as I said, Grim was taken iiita 
favor; and, from that auspicious moment, he had the run 
of the camp : though, whenever Filly wanted his services, 
he was, somehow, always in readiness to attend her. He 
always slept just outside the door of her tent. 

Grim developed his efficiency for hunting much earlier 
than is usual with his race. Indeed, from the very first 
time he was called on to wage war against the wild animals 
of Neutralia, he became the favorite of the men over all 
the other dogs, of whatever breed, age, sex, or condition. 
These had to be taught, — but he seemed to take to the 
business as though he had a natural genius for it. And 
he had. 

One of Grim’s most wonderful traits, was his imperturba- 
ble coolness: he seemed never to get excited. Even when 
lying on the ground, (a most trying position for a dog, 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 145 


when danger threatens,) any number of strange dogs might 
approach him, with every appearance of hostile intent, 
strut about him, growl, fume, splutter, bully, and assume all 
sorts of menacing attitudes; yet, not only would he scorn 
to rise from the defenceless posture, but often would not 
so much as lift his head, and would sometimes crown his 
contempt for them by closing his eyes, and, for all a by- 
stander could know to the contrary, go to sleep, while the 
storm was raging around and threatening to break upon 
him at any moment. But, if it did break, woe betide the 
unlucky dog, or dogs, that had raised it! 

Another very remarkable thing about Grim, was, that 
he never barked. Not only was this the case when about 
the camp, but even throughout the exciting time of a hunt. 
This was about the only fault that could be urged against 
Grim. He had the truest of noses, and would tree, or bring 
to bay, more wild animals than all the other dogs put to- 
gether. But, then, the hunters had no way of knowing 
when, or where, he had treed, or brought to bay; for he 
never proclaimed it, but just stood there, or lay down, 
(according as he felt,) and watched, in silence, until some 
of the other dogs would come up, on his trail, and do the 
“tonguiug” — thus proving himself emphatically a dog of 
deeds rather than of words. In fact, he seemed to have 
exhausted his voice on the eventful occasion when the 
Captain came so near sacrificing him — as a “ crying 
nuisance’^ — for his own peace’ sake. 

For two reasons, one might almost suspect Grim of hav- 
ing Quaker blood in his veins: first, on account of his never 
losing his temper, as already stated; and, secondly, because, 
when the time came to “pitch in,” he invariably made for 
the throat of his victim. 

After a little successful practice with tiger-cats, leopard- 
cats, and catamounts — each individual one of which can 
13 


146 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

whip off a whole pack of ordinary dogs — Grim did not 
hesitate to engage in single combat with panthers, wolves, 
and even bears, wherever these could be come at without any 
very great disadvantages to himself. It was a sight to see 
— that of Grim and a black or brown bear, of the largest 
size — an ursa major of the forest — come together in mortal 
strife. And such were, in fact, the only occasions on which 
the dog displayed — and, even then, in the slightest possible 
degree — the usual signs of canine excitement. Just before 
rushing in, he could be seen to raise his bristles a little, 
while a whine or two, barely audible, would escape him, 
if the bear was an uncommonly large one, as though just 
a “leetle bit” anxious about the result of the affair. In 
these desperate combats, he was never known to miss the 
throat, reaching that vital point almost on the first onset; 
though, in getting there, he sometimes sustained lacerations 
of the visage, which, even after they healed, made him look 
both older and uglier. 

Perhaps, after all, the most remarkable of this dog’s 
traits, was his constant devotion to the girl who had saved 
his life. Of this merciful act of hers, it is hard to con- 
ceive that a dog, even of Grim’s unusual sagacity, could 
know anything, — for he could not have seen her face at 
the time, his organs of vision being, then, wax-tight in 
early puppyhood. To be sure, he may have heard the 
pleading tones of her voice ; and, indeed, that voice had, 
ever afterwards, a magic influence over him ; for, not only 
would he, on hearing her call, leave all else and hurry to 
her side, but, even when the men were going on a hunt, 
and when Grim well knew they were going — their arms 
in their hands, and all the other dogs leaping and baying 
about them in the wildest excitement — they could never, 
by any means they could use, induce him to accompany 
them, much a^ he liked the sport, until she would signify 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 147 


her willingness to dispense, for a while, with his services, 
saying, “ Go, Grim ! ” when he was olf with a bound. 

Grim could not talk, — although, as I before hinted, he 
went so far in that direction as to disdain to bark. 

Such was the sole escort which the girl had, in her fre- 
quent strolls through the surrounding woods, or, indeed, 
cared to have, so far as it regarded security from harm. 

There was not any great variety of flowers in those 
densely timbered haunts, particularly at that late season ; 
but of such as there were. Filly soon gathered her basketful ; 
and of graceful vines and creepers, besides mosses of differ- 
ent kinds, feathery ferns, and autumn-leaves of almost 
every hue, she procured more than she well knew how to 
dispose of. 

As she walked eagerly on, gathering these, lured from 
spot to spot by the new beauties which the luxuriant vege- 
tation successively presented, she talked, at times, now to 
herself, and now to Grim, who kept close to her side, al- 
though her short trips from flower to flower, and her sud- 
den starts and stoppings, one would suppose, must have 
annoyed him no little. 

Occasionally she would stay her steps a moment, to 
listen to some bird that would break into song near her. 
Then herself would pour forth snatches of some wild 
ballad which she had heard about Camp Wildwood. The 
burden of her utterances, however, seemed to be the line 
she had quoted on first waking in the tent and finding the 
day so bright and lovely, “ Happy the bride the sun 
shines on.” She had improvised a sort of tune, to which 
she hummed the joyous sentiment during almost every 
brief trip she made between knolls. Occasionally, she 
would hum it forth right into Grim’s honest but otherwise 
ill-favored visage, which he often thrust close to her own, 
as she stooped to her work. But, as he responded only by 


148 MORE TITAN SHE COUI.D BEAR. 


staring blankly into her face, never once smiling, or even 
so much as changing countenance, it was very evident that 
he either did not at all comprehend the sentiment thus 
thrown into his teeth, or did not appreciate it, or, like the 
reader, perhaps, failed as yet to see why so frequent a repe- 
tition of it was appropriate to the present occasion. 

After quite a long roaming up and down the woods, the 
girl came to a gurgling rill, just at the point where it was 
crossed by a bridle-path ; and being reminded — as one 
often is — by the sight of the running water, that she was 
thirsty, — her attention to this physical want having been 
hitherto diverted by her pleasing pursuit, and still more 
pleasing thoughts, — she plucked a few large leaves, fash- 
ioned them, with great dexterity^ into a cup, and, laying 
aside her hat, stooped down and quenched her thirst. She 
then seated herself on a large mossy log, which, lying 
directly across the little stream, formed a sort of rustic 
bridge, and set to work, twining wreaths and arranging 
bouquets out of the diverse material she had gathered. 

Among other wreaths she made one out of a rare species 
of wild clematis, with blossoms as white as snow, and of 
surpassing delicacy both of shape and fragrance. She 
seemed, for some reason, to bestow especial care on this ; 
and, when finished, its construction was so deft, and its 
arrangement so tasteful, that it was really a masterpiece 
of its kind. She then placed it upon her head, and, draw- 
ing forth from her belt a little looking-glass of quaint 
workmanship, carefully surveyed her floral crown ; and, 
doubtless, also the beaming face of this young Queen of 
Neutralia. 

“Why should brides,’’ she said aloud, “always wear 
orange wreaths, as Senor says they do? I never saw an 
orange wreath, but I am quite sure it cannot possibly look 
sweeter or purer than my clematis wreath. I do wish he 
could see it.” 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 149 


CHAPTER XVL 

I’ll send her straight away : 

I’ll to the wars, she to her single sorrow. 

All’s Well That Ends Well. 

O wilt thou darkling leave me ? do not so. 

3Iidsummer Night’s Dream, 

Rosalind. Not true in love? 

Celia. Yes, when he is in ; but I think he is not in. 

Ros. You have heard him swear downright he was. 

Celia. Was is not is. As You Like It. 

I T had been well for the girl if the next wish she was 
destined to make could have been as easily gratified as 
this one. “Senor” himself, as she had long been accus- 
tomed to call Gatewood, stood, at that very moment, but a 
few paces off, watching her movements. He had, when yet 
at a distance, caught sight of Grim lying in the path along 
which he was making his way to the camp, and seeing a 
flower-basket by the dog’s side, supposed Filly was some- 
where near, and resolved to surprise her. For this purpose 
he dismounted, and leaving his horse standing in the path, 
walked noiselessly forward on tiptoe. Grim having spied 
his master from afar, and having recognized him at first 
sight, suffered him — as, indeed, he invariably did any 
one whom he knew and liked — to approach without him- 
self making the least demonstration of the fact that he was 
at hand. 

“ He does see it,” said Gatewood, now stepping forward, 
“and thinks it very becoming.” 

“ Oh, Senor ! how you frightened me ! ” she exclaimed, 
starting up from her seat and clasping her hands over her 
heart. 

By this time he had reached the spot, and after seating 
i;i * 


150 


MOEE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


himself- on the fallen tree, took her gently by the arm and 
bade her sit down beside him. It most probably flashed 
across the girl’s mind as strange, that he did not kiss her, 
as he always had done at junctures kindred to this. If so, 
however, she was not long in dismissing the thought, at 
least for the present ; and, seeing that he himself did not 
speak further, she at once took up — perhaps for want of 
a more appropriate topic of conversation — her recent train 
of reflection, as near the point at which his sudden obtru- 
sion had broken it off, as her startled and embarrassed 
condition would admit of. 

“ You said brides always wore orange wreaths, Senor. 
Is n’t this just as pretty?” she asked, still crowned, and 
turning her blushing face up to his. 

“ It’s very pretty, Filly,” he replied, kindly enough, but 
in a rather compassionate tone, which, however, the girl, 
in her unsuspecting confidence, and the exuberance of her 
present joy, did not observe. 

“ And then, too, when I get my splendid jewels on, which 
you gave me — ” 

Gatewood, painfully aware how cruel it would be to let 
her run on longer in this strain of joyous anticipation, 
only to meet finally with a bitter disappointment, thought 
it best to give her at once a hint of what was impending. 

“ But Filly,” he said, with this view, “ you will not have 
need of such things quite as soon as we thought.” 

“ Why, Senor?” she timidly demanded, looking at him 
with an expression of countenance which, from having 
been all joy, w'as now wofully downcast. “This was the 
day: I certainly have n’t mistaken the day. You said — ” 

“Yes — you are right about that. Filly, but — but — ” 

“But what, Senor?” she asked, as he shrank mo- 
mentarily, as well he might, from telling her the cruel truth. 

“I have been obliged to change my plans,” he replied. 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 151 

“Obliged to change your plans, Senor?” 

“Filly, did they tell you of the refugees we rescued 
yesterday from the Spaniards?” 

“Oh, yes — Mr. Davies told me all about it; and I ’m 
so glad you did such a noble deed,” exclaimed the girl, for 
the moment forgetting her own grievance in the glory of 
her heart’s idol. 

“And he said, too,” she went on, “the lady was as fine 
as a queen.” '' 

“Well — they are now living in the cottage.” 

“Not living in our cottage, Senor?” said she, with a 
sudden start of surprise. 

“Yes, Filly. All the buildings in the town were full 
of refugees, and they could get no house there to go into; 
and I could n’t sufier them to be exposed to the weather, 
)’ou know, with all their misfortunes, too, — and a lady 
among them. 

“What else would you have me do?” he demanded, see- 
ing that, instead of replying to his attempted extenuation 
of his conduct, she remained silent, and covered her face 
with her hand. 

“I ’m so sorry,” she said at length, repiningly. “I had 
my heart set on going to the lake to live. It ’s so beautiful 
there. I chose that spot for building the house because 
we could see so far. And you seemed to like it so much, 
Senor — and said we would be happy there. But now I 
suppose I shall have to spend all my life in these dreary 
old woods, where I can see only a few steps before me. I 
want to go to th.e lake, where I can see out, for miles. I ’m 
tired of the old woods. I hate them. I just hate them!” 

Here the girl burst into tears; and although Gatewood 
attempted to draw her to him for the purpose of allaying, 
so far as he might be able, the storm of emotions which he 
had raised in her impulsive breast, she did what she had 


152 MORE THAN SITE COULD BEAR. 

never done before, broke his gentle hold, and, in a tumult 
of mingled grief and sense of wrong, rushed from his side, 
and, prostrating herself in the leaves, buried her face in 
her hands, and gave free vent — child that she was — to 
her passionate sobs. 

But the heaviest blow had not yet descended. To Gate- 
wood, scenes which roused his sensibilities, even in a slight 
degree, were always painful. He, however, had been un- 
accustomed to them of late, and against the few which he 
had witnessed he had been enabled by natural firmness 
and force of habit to steel himself, at least to all outward 
seeming. Inasmuch, therefore, as the distress in the present 
instance had already affected him to the verge of the melt- 
ing mood, — affected him, too, infinitely more from the 
consciousness of his having deliberately caused it all, — he 
resolved that there should be no repetition of such a scene; 
but that now, since the flood-gates of grief were fairly open, 
he would go on even to the bitter end, that the gushing 
fountain might, if possible, be at once drained to the bottom. 

The reader shall, in due time I hope, hear from her own 
lips the previous part of this girl’s story — at least what 
little was known of it. Suffice it to say here, that she came 
under the Captain’s charge w^hen she was supposed to be 
about ten years of age, though, truth to say, there was no 
accurate information whatever on the subject of her birth. 
And this was the reason why she was known only as Filly 
— a name conferred by Gatewood in mere sport, but re- 
tained for the rest of her life. She had no family name at 
all, nor had she the slightest recollection of her parents, 
having been separated from them — whoever they were — 
by one of those terrible strokes of fate which shroud in 
gloom the prospects of such as they come upon, but which 
are fortunately of rare occurrence. The Captain had 
rescued her from a doom worse than death. 


MOEE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 153 

The camp had been her home. Her rescuer not only 
treated her, at all times, with the utmost kindness and 
consideration, but himself taught her, in the first place, to 
speak the English language — of which she knew not a 
word — and afterwards to read and write it with consider- 
able accuracy; a task which, under his peculiar circum- 
stances, must have cost him no little trouble and patience. 

The result was, her knowledge of the world was confined 
almost entirely to such books as he, from time to time, 
placed at her disposal, — consisting mostly of novels, — and 
to such peeps behind the curtain of society as he chose to 
afford her by his conversation. She rarely ever communi- 
cated with any one about the camp except the woman 
whose duty it was to serve her, as before mentioned. This 
was an honest, simple-hearted soul, who had been selected 
from among the camp-women for those very qualities; and 
inasmuch as she herself had had but few opportunities of 
seeing anything of the great world, she knew little of its 
ways; and not being at all communicative or gossipy, she 
kept to herself well-nigh all she did know. 

The girl’s personal charms, even amid the fearful sur- 
roundings from which Gatewood had rescued her, blighting 
as these usually are to all natural beauty, and hopelessly 
precluding the possibility of its cultivation, were neverthe- 
less considerable; and so fascinating did she become as she 
ripened into wmmanhood, that for the last year he had re- 
solved to make her his wife. Let it be recorded to the 
credit of this in some respects remarkable man, that, not- 
withstanding he was away off here in this howling wilder- 
ness, where no law ever reached, he had hitherto refrained 
from availing himself of his position to take advantage of 
the youth and innocence of this lone girl, and of her ig- 
norance of the world’s ways touching virtue, for the pur- 
pose of wronging her, and then throwing her aside as a 


154 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

ruined bauble whicli purity and worth would henceforth 
spurn as they passed, should she ever dare show her face 
within the pale of civilization. His resolution to assume 
this honorable relation towards the friendless girl, outcast 
though he was, and surrounded by associates of brutal in- 
stincts, who held the fair fame of woman in special contempt, 
showed at least that he had not altogether forgotten the 
dictates of honor and his duties to society. 

“ Filly,” he said, as he now walked up to where she was 
lying with her face towards the earth, and attempted to 
lift her to a sitting posture, “get up and sit by me on the 
leaves — I want to talk to you.” 

She, however, resisted his efforts, and fell back to her 
position, still weeping as though her heart would break. 

“Filly,” said he at length, “you must go to town and 
stay with old Mrs. Davies.” 

It now became evident that, thus far, much of the girl’s 
demonstration of emotion had been put on with the hope 
of effecting her purpose by its violence, since she probably 
thought there was no other way of carrying her long-nursed 
jiet project of living by the lake. For although she had 
just been accusing her fate for being compelled to abide 
longer in the woods, she now clung to these wild scenes 
with an earnestness which it was pitiful to look upon. 
This infinitely greater grief wholly annihilated the less. 

On hearing the Captain’s words, she instantly lifted her 
face from the leaves. 

“Oh, no — Senor! don’t do that — don’t send me away 
— anything but that” — she cried, falling into his lap 
where he now sat on the ground, and burying her face in 
his bosom. “I am sorry I said what I did. I ’ll never do 
so again, if you will only let me stay. I ’m willing to live 
here in the woods — anywhere — oh ! anywhere in the world, 
with you. Don’t send me away!” 


MOKE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 155 


It was plain that her grief was no longer put on. The 
tears that streamed forth now were clearly those of genuine 
anguish. Gatewood became suddenly aware, ere he had 
time to think, that his resolution was fast oozing out at his 
eyes, and at the next breath he felt the big drops — the 
first for many a long year — course scaldingly down his 
cheek. The girl, however, did not observe this: her head 
was still bowed down, and she thought not once of looking 
into those fierce eyes for such tender witnesses of his relent- 
ing. Long ere she looked up from where she rested they 
were cleared of all moisthre, and showed no signs whatever 
of yielding. 

The struggle in Gatewood’s breast during this brief time, 
— to his honor be it recorded, — was such as to well-nigh 
subvert all the plans and hopes of the new happiness which 
he had just been cherishing for himself, even up to the very 
moment when he had descried her in his homeward path. 
And indeed had he known, at this time, the depth of her 
devotion for him, it is not impossible that the result of that 
struggle might have been different. But he thought, and 
not without some show of reason, that her love arose partly 
from gratitude, but more from her isolated position, she 
never having really been acquainted with any of the sterner 
sex but himself. He judged that, if she went to live in 
the town, as he had just proposed, she would soon meet 
with some one far worthier of her than he felt himself to 
be, and that she would then be but too glad to forget the 
wild haunts of her childhood and her bandit lover, in the 
novelty and pleasure which her new situation would afford 
in the untold raptures of mutual affection. 

But although he had now resolved, for the second time 
during the last half-hour, — and this time inexorably, — to 
send her off, he thought it more humane to be less sudden 
with her. He therefore determined to afford her an oppor- 


156 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


tunity to argue the matter with him for a short time, dur- 
ing which he would give her to understand in a gradual 
way what she was to expect. 

“Yes, Filly — you must go,” he said in kindly tones, 
raising her face gently toward his with both his hands so 
soon as he felt assured that all signs of his recent emotion 
had dried from his eyes. You know, you are no longer a 
child, but have grown to be a woman ; and it is not proper 
for a man and woman to live together unless they are hus- 
band and wife.” 

“ Why, Senor — is that all? I ’m sure there can be no 
great harm in that. Who says it’s wrong, Senor ? ” 

“The world says so, Filly,” he replied, forgetting that 
the world’s opinion — that great bugbear which dictates 
more or less to us all, though unfortunately not always so 
correctly as in this instance — could have but few terrors 
for this unsophisticated child of nature. 

“ The world, indeed ! Why should I care for what the 
world says, Senor ? ” 

“But you may care some day. Filly, — when you come 
to live in it.” 

“ Do you, then, expect to take me to live in the world 
some day ? ” 

“I — I may. You know, any one who leads the life I 
do, can’t always tell exactly what he ’s going to do.” 

“ But, Senor, you said, if I was your wife, the world 
would n’t think it wrong that we should live together — 
even here in the woods, 1 suppose.” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Then what ’s the use of separating? I ’m willing to live 
anywhere, or anyhow, so you don’t send me away, or leave 
me. I ’ll take back all I said before : I don’t want to go 
to the lake : if you will only let me stay here, I shall be 
happy.” 


MOBE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 157 


“ Filly, I suppose I may as well tell you, once for all, 
everything about my reasons for sending you into town. 
I know you never repeat what I tell you, and you must n’t 
repeat this, for it is a great secret. I expect to go on an 
expedition and take all my men wdth me.” 

“ When, Senor ? ” asked the girl, greatly startled at the 
tidings, — as might have been seen in the sudden blanch- 
ing of her cheek^ and heard in the gasping, half whispered 
tones in which she spoke those two little words. 

“ That, I can’t tell precisely\— before a very great while, 
though.” 

Nothing was said for some time, during which the girl 
seemed to be absorbed in dejected reverie. 

“How long will you be gone, Senor?” she asked at 
length. 

“ Oh — maybe a long while.” 

“ Then, Senor, that is the very reason you ought to let 
me stay with you while you are here,” said she; and the 
thought of his going away, most probably into danger, 
caused her tears to flow afresh. But she was now too 
deeply interested in arguing and in imagining she had yet 
some hope of carrying her point, to wipe them away. So 
they ^veiled up from her heart and were allowed to trickle 
unheeded, one after another, down her now flushed cheeks. 
“ For all I know you may be going into war, and I may 
never see you again.” 

“ But, Filly,” he replied, “ I shall have to be away from 
camp a great deal, sometimes for days together, getting 
things ready for the expedition.” 

“ Well, if you will only let me stay, I can see you when- 
ever you are there. But if I go to town, 1 shall never see 
you.” How speedily may circumstances reverse feelings 
we have nursed for years. Heretofore the Chief had most 
jealously kept the girl, whose heart (and soul too) he had 
11 


158 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


won, away from the town, lest she should there meet with 
some one who might lure her from him. But now he 
hoped with all his heart not only that she would be willing 
to go thither, but that some worthy youth would soon — 
he cared not how soon — win her to stay. 

“ Why, it will not be safe for you in camp, while I ’m 
away so long at a time.” 

“ Grim will take care of me,” said she, putting her arm 
around the great neck of the dog, who had long before 
come and Iain down near her. “Won’t you, Grim ?” 

To this Grim did not respond with his voice, as indeed 
he never did, — but no one could have doubted, from the 
affectionate look which he bestowed upon the girl as he 
raised his claw-scarred visage, that, if need were, he would 
defend her to the death. 

“No, Filly — you must give it up,” said Gatewood, this 
time, with more decision in his tone, — finding probably 
that she was growing too hopeful, and to say the truth, 
was, at times, getting the better of him in the debate. 
“ Davies will take you to town in the morning. You have 
no idea how’ many more charms the town will have for you 
than the woods. The big houses w’ill cause you to forget our 
poor tents ; the gardens and flowers will make you wonder 
how you ever could have admired these thickets where 
you can see little or nothing ; and ” — here he twined his 
arm around her slender waist — “when you go into society 
and get acquainted with the fine-looking men you will 
meet there, you ’ll say to yourself, ‘ Why, how much more 
agreeable they are than Senor : if I had only seen them 
first, I — ’ ” 

“Oh, how can you say that?” she exclaimed, burying 
her face in her hands. “ That is cruel — too cruel ! ” 

This outburst was so unexpected to him and so unques- 
tionably genuine, that Gatewood was alarmed at the effect 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 159 


of his words, and hastened to atone for them so far as was 
in his power — and, alas! in the end, too far for her own 
good. 

“ You must n’t think me in earnest always. Filly. I 
only meant that when you once get settled in the town, 
you ’ll find everything much better than out here. I 
know you ’ll not forget Senor. I was only joking about 
that, sweet. Look up, and let me see you — and kiss ^ou 
top. There, now ! I know you ’ll be ready to go, in the 
morning, like a good girl. And then you can muse just 
as much as you please, and dream, too, if you like, of my 
coming back from our expedition and making you happy.” 

These deceptive words, which he endeavored to think 
himself justified in uttering with the view of accomplishing 
quietly, rather than by force, that which had become with 
him a foregone conclusion, produced the effect intended. 
The poor girl’s face, which grief had so overcast, cleared 
at once — the matter had ended on terms so much less 
hard than she had, a few moments ago, expected. 

Rising, he assisted her from the ground. 

“Come, now,” he said, “you shall ride my horse to 
camp.” 

Saying which, he led her to where the animal was stand- 
ing in the bridle-path, and throwing the right stirrup over, 
lifted her to the saddle, and giving her the rein, walked 
on, while she followed — Grim, with the basket of flowers, 
bringing up the rear. 

“ Senor, you will let me take Grim with me ? ” said she, 
when they had nearly reached the camp — glancing back 
at her most humble obedient servant. 

“ What folly, child ? Why, Grim is as indispensable in 
camp as — as I am. You certainly wouldn’t wish to spoil 
all our splendid hunts just for the sake of having the dog 
chained in a little back-yard that you might look at him 


IGO MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

through the window. Even the slight gratification this 
would afford you would be destroyed ; for you would be 
always thinking how cruel it was to the dog to keep him 
cramped up in that way. Why, I believe it would kill 
Grim outright. And then it would never do for him to 
run loose in the streets, — he would frighten everybody to 
death. Moreover, I ’m certain old Mrs. Davies would n’t 
endure him in the house. So, you see, while the dog is all 
in all to us in the woods, he could be of no use whatever 
ill town. And then, as for his being at all ornamental — 
well, you know. Filly, as well as I do, that Grim was. 
never accused of that, even in his more youthful days ; and 
the unsightly marks which the bears and cats have set on 
his countenance since, have done more to excuse his noto- 
rious ugliness than to improve his appearance.” 

“Senor,” said the girl, not altogether liking these free 
comments on the personal appearance of her faithful friend 
and constant attendant, — in his hearing, too; for Filly had 
an idea that Grim could about half comprehend any ordi- 
nary conversation, — “Senor, I don’t think Grim so very 
ugly.” 

“You don’t think Grim very ugly?” exclaimed the Cap- 
tain, stopping suddenly and looking back, on hearing this 
preposterous opinion, as he most assuredly thought it. 

“No — I do not,” persisted the girl, in a firm and some- 
what indignant tone. 

“Perhaps you don’t think him at all ugly?” 

“I can’t say I do.” 

“Well, maybe you think him pretty?” 

“Sometimes.” 

“Do you ever think him beautiful. Filly?” 

“Well — not — often,” replied Filly, though with such 
evident reluctance, that the Captain, after a glance at the 
dog — who seemed, each time that he looked at him, much 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 161 


Uglier even than he expected — was fain to laugh aloud. 
The girl, however, not only did not join in his merriment 
at her favorite’s expense, but looked a little piqued, and as 
though by way of offset to the derogatory remarks, said, as 
she gazed back compassionately at him : 

“ Don’t believe what Sehor says about you. Grim. Come 
along, you good old fellow ! ” 

“‘Good,’ I grant you,” said the Captai^., starting on 
again; “but not in the least beautiful. 

“Sometimes, Filly,” he resumed after a short silence, 
“ when we see a very pretty person and don’t wish to at- 
tach too much importance to mere comeliness, which we 
know to be a very perishable thing, we say, ‘Beauty is only 
skin-deep.’ Now, as I don’t wish Grim’s misfortune to de- 
preciate him in our estimation, I will modify the saying — 
to his advantage, as I think — and put it, ‘Ugliness is only 
skin-deep.’ ” 


CHAPTER XVII. 

They were not born for bondage. — Cymbeline. 

Nothing can or shall control my soul 
Till I am even with him. — Othello. 

Let him be 

Until a time may serve. — Winter’s Tale. 

rilHE Delgados, as I have already said, were from San 
JL Antonio de Bexar, which their ancestors had assisted 
in founding nearly a hundred years before. And here a 
brief sketch of the founding of that city — which has always 
been the leading one in Texas until Galveston recently be- 
came a formidable rival in growth and prosperity — may 
14 * 


102 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


prove not uninteresting to the reader, because it was the 
home of the family whose adventures are related in this 
story; but more especially because it is to be made, in due 
time, the theatre of some of the most prominent historical 
events which we shall attempt to depict. 

From the year 1691, when the first regular Spanish settle- 
ments were made in Texas in the guise of Missions for the 
conversion of the wild Indians to Christianity, till 1730, 
Texas could scarcely be said to have made, on the whole, 
any progress whatever in the ways of civilization. Each 
of those Missions — of which there were some half-dozen in 
all, situated at different points in the province, — was con- 
ducted and controlled by a few Franciscan friars, who, 
during their peculiar operations among the savages, were 
protected by a small garrison of Spanish soldiers. The 
friars, however, jealous, it would seem, of the military’s 
power and influence, — which they knew would be ultimately 
much increased if they were allowed to marry and have 
families in the regular way, — succeeded in virtually abol- 
ishing marriage among them; which “sacrament,” indeed, 
had always, even before this priestly interdiction, been 
exceedingly difficult to bring about, owing to the necessity 
of every officer and soldier getting the King’s assent as a 
condition preliminary to taking a wife unto himself. The 
almost necessary result, among a soldiery already pro- 
verbially deficient in bridling their baser passions, was a 
promiscuous intercourse with the Indian women in and 
about the Missions. 

It was mainly owing to the degraded character of the 
population springing from this licentiousness, that Texas, 
as above stated, made no progress for forty years. On this 
lamentable state of things being made known to the King 
of Spain, he signified his wish that a large number of the 
families residing in the Canary Islands, who were amoiig 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


1G3 


his best subjects, should migrate to this province, as richly 
favored by nature as it had been hitherto cursed by the 
innate viciousness and the religious fanaticism which were 
so fatally blended in the persons of the first settlers. 

Although liberal inducements were offered, with the view 
of effecting the migration contemplated by his Majesty, 
comparatively few could be prevailed upon to cast their 
lot in this distant though fertile wilderness.^ In the year 
1730, however, ten or fifteen families of the Islanders reached 
Texas. These emigrants, who were expected to initiate a 
more auspicious career for the hitherto unfortunate prov- 
ince, went to work on the head-waters of a beautiful river 
and founded the city of San Antonio — or, as it was called 
at first, San Fernando. 

These Islanders were noted not only for their regular 
habits, — on which his Majesty no doubt reckoned largely 
as an element of success in the enterprise he had originated, 
— but also for the respect in which they held the weaker 
sex, their chivalry towards all their fellow-beings, and their 
religious fervor. 

Upon the head of each of these families the King con- 
ferred the title of Hidalgo, — a dignity which invested the 
recipient with certain privileges and immunities. He could, 
for example, plead his title in bar of any suit brought by 
the common citizen for the restitution of property, even 
though illegally seized, or for the punishment of outrages 
committed against personal rights, or liberty, or even life 
itself. These, one mny well suppose, were dangerous pre- 
rogatives; and it is difficult to conceive why they should 
have been conferred at all, except indeed as a blow aimed 
directly at the manifest rights of the people. It is to the 
everlasting credit of those so clothed, that they seldom 
abused their powers. 

Among the families in San Antonio who, at the time we 


164 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


commemorate, regarded themselves as the nobles of the 
country, and were so regarded by others, — in so far at least 
as nobility was by that time recognized at all, — and who, 
at any rate, formed, practically, a much privileged class, 
was that of the Delgados, their ancestors having been among 
those who had migrated from the Canary Islands in response 
to the King’s desire. 

Colonel Delgado, the father of Isabella and Juan, 
and brother of the Padre, was a native of San Antonio. 
He was a man of w’ealth and intelligence, had received a 
superior education, and being gifted with a fine person and 
fascinating manners, was not only a leader in society, 
but his influence was co-extensive with his native province. 
Many of his relatives having removed from Texas, in the 
by-gone time, to the various other provinces, and some to 
the capital, the name had become pretty well know n through- 
out Mexico. 

Colonel Delgado had early imbibed the spirit of our 
Revolution, and was fain to imitate our example; but the 
thinly settled frontier where he lived was not a point at 
which he could hope to initiate such a struggle with any 
prospect of success. He w^as therefore obliged to bide his 
time. Meanwhile, how^ever, he was by no means idle. Not 
only did he avail himself of every safe opportunity to in- 
culcate by conversation the immortal principles of liberty, 
but he went to great expense in educating his children with 
a constant eye to the advancement of those principles. 

Isabella and Juan, after several years spent in the famous 
schools of Queretaro — the priests who conducted the in- 
stitutions there, being widely known for their liberal polit- 
ical views — were sent to the United States to spend the 
last year of their education, to the end that the germ of 
freedom, so auspiciously aw^akened within them at home, 
not only should lose nothing in its growdh, but should 


MORE THAN SHE COUED BEAR. 


165 


absorb from that genial soil such nutriment as might expand 
it into a sturdy plant which could defy the storms of despot- 
ism. Here, they not only learned the English language, 
but met and conversed daily with Americans of the best 
society, read their history, and studied their institutions. 
They returned to their native land just on the eve of that 
brief military campaign, which, under the direction of the 
earnest though inexperienced Cura Hidalgo, opened, as we 
have seen, near the centre of the country \Jith such un- 
precedented success, and closed so disastrously on the 
circumference, in the province contiguous to Texas. 

During this bloody campaign Colonel Delgado and his 
son did good service in the cause of the patriots, — the 
former as a prominent officer, the latter as ensign in a 
company from his native town. The father escaped, for a 
short season, the fearful fate of his illustrious leaders, so 
many of whom were inhumanly executed at Chihuahua in 
short instalments; namely, on the first of May, 1811, one 
major-general and one brigadier; on the 11th of the same 
month, one major-general and one colonel ; on the 6th of 
June, one major-general and one coionel ; on the 26th of ' 
the same month, the generalissimo, the captain -general and 
governor of Monterey, and one lieutenant-general ; on the 
27th of the same month, an influential lawyer, an army 
intendant, and a brigadier ; and finally, on the 27th of July, 
the Curate Hidalgo himself — the Chief of the rebellion. 

Colonel Delgado was, however, soon afterwards captured 
at San Antonio and very summarily disposed of, his head 
being cut off, stuck on a pole, and exposed in the most 
public part of the town. Young Juan had also been taken, 
and he and his mother were both forced by the inhuman 
Salcedo, the commandant of the north-eastern provinces, 
to be present at the execution, and by order of the mon- 
ster, the blood which streamed from the neck of his brave 


166 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


victim, was sprinkled over the person of his swooning 
wife. 

Is it any wonder, therefore, that the thoughts of the 
youth — who managed to make his escape before his turn 
came to die — dwelt ever afterwards on this diabolical 
scene? Is it any wonder that schemes of vengeance were 
nursed in his heart to the very verge of frenzy? Or is it 
any wonder that his spirited sister, so far from allowing 
such deeds to beget in her breast an apathy to oppression, 
should have been converted by them into an enthusiast in 
the cause of her country’s independence? 

The truth is, that, during the fierce conflicts of this revo- 
lution, — which up to the time of Hidalgo’s capture occu- 
pied only about six months, — there were many acts of 
cruelty perpetrated on both sides. There was, however, 
this extenuating, though by no means justifying, excuse to 
be urged by the patriots, which could not be pleaded by 
their more intelligent enemies, namely, that their army w’as 
made up of the most ignorant of the notoriously ignorant 
masses of Mexico. These finding themselves suddenly free 
after such a long and .terrible oppression — their ancestors 
too having suffered for three hundred years before them — 
it was quite impossible for their leaders to control them 
when the favorable moment for vengeance arrived. Now, 
inasmuch as the debasing ignorance in which they had 
been purposely kept by the Spaniards, was really the cause 
of these barbarities, the tyrannical masters were them- 
selves, in a great measure, responsible for the atrocities 
committed. 

“Juan,” said the Padre, — as the three took their seats 
at the breakfast-table the morning after the uncle had 
returned from Natchitoches, — “ of course you will go with 
the General to Washington ? ” 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 167 


On the previous evening, while detailing his conversa- 
tion with Bernardo, the priest had informed his nephew of 
the General’s request, that he would accompany him on his 
contemplated journey. At that time however he made no 
reply; hence the renewal of the proposition in the morning. 

“ I had laid other plans,” replied Juan curtly. 

“ Other plans ! ” echoed his Reverence. “ What are 
they?” 

The information which the priest had — th^t his nephew 
intended returning to San Antonio to assassinate Salcedo — 
was not positive, though sufficient to justify the strongest 
suspicions. Moreover, young Delgado was wholly ignorant 
that his uncle had any idea of such a plot being in exist- 
ence. Hence the latter’s affectation of ignorance, as im- 
plied in the foregoing interrogatory. He did not wish 
Juan to think — just yet, at least — that he had already 
heard such a rumor. 

‘‘Well,” replied the young man, — though not until a 
good while after the question had been propounded, — 
“ perhaps it don’t matter, uncle, what they were. Let them 
go for the present ; the time for them will yet come. As 
Bernardo is our acknowledged leader while here, if he 
thinks I can serve the cause better by going to Washington 
with him than in any other way, why, I suppose I ought 
to go.” 

“ Certainly you ought,” said the Padre eagerly. “ I 
knew, that, after you had the whole night to think over 
the proposition, you could not but act reasonably in the 
matter. And, Juan, you ought not to tarry long. The 
General starts very soon, — probably to-morrow or next 
day, — and you know a journey like that will require some 
preparation after you get to town.” 

“Oh,” replied the nephew, “you need n’t fear much 
dallying on my part: I have already told Miguel to saddle 


168 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

my horse, and I shall start as soon as I have swallowed my 
breakfast.” 

So tenacious of his purposes had Juan always proved 
himself, and so yielding did he now seem, that his uncle 
thought, at once, he must have been misinformed with re- 
gard to the bloody machinations of his nephew, and was, 
of course, rejoiced to find him, for once, so reasonable. 

The priest, himself probably possessed of as much tenacity 
as his nephew, had resolved to use all the means he could 
think of to deter him from a scheme which he was confident 
would only eventuate in the sacrifice of his own life with no 
good result to the cause; and, as the very last resort, he had 
determined to bring to bear upon him — after extorting a 
confession of guilt in the matter of the contemplated as- 
sassination — those spiritual terrors which appertain pecu- 
liarly to the priestly ofiice, by virtue of which, according 
to the creed of his Church, he could call down the anath- 
emas of heaven. 

The true secret of young Delgado’s yielding so readily 
is to be found in the fact that he had overheard one of the 
Spanish ofiicers who captured the party say, incidentally, 
— though in such a connection as to leave on his mind no 
doubt of its truth, — that the monster whose blood he so 
fiercely sought had been called by the Viceroy temporarily 
to the capital. This of course rendered it, for the time, 
impossible for the youth to reach him. 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 169 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


It is a rupture that you may easily heal. — Measure for Measure. 
No, holy father, throw away that thought.— J/eamre /or Measure. 


I shall beseech your highness. 


In such a business give me leave to use ^ 

The help of mine own eyes.— All ’s Well That Ends Well. 

My integrity ne’er knew the crafts 

That you do charge me with. — A ’s Well That Ends Well. 

O sooner had Juan ridden away, than the Padre — 



-Ll impatient to put into operation his project for winning 
over the Chief of the Neutral Ground through the influence 
which he doubted not his niece would be able to wield over 
him, — broached the subject to her at once. Truth to say, 
it is not at all improbable that his reason for urging his 
nephew to a speedy departure was attributable more to his 
impatience to carry out this plan than to any well-grounded 
fear that he would be too late. 

“Isabella,” he began, as they sat under the trees, “did 
you hold any conversation with Captain Gatewood about 
the republican cause?” 

“ Of course I did, uncle. You know I never let any such 
opportunity escape me,” she replied, with a slight laugh. 

“Did he seem interested in the subject?” 

“Oh, yes — he appeared to sympathize very warmly 
with us.” 

“Well, did you ask him to do more than sympathize?” 

“No — I thought we were already under too many ob- 
ligations to him to begin begging so soon for additional 
favors, particularly as he promised to visit us again before 


long.” 


16 


170 MORE THAN SHE COULD BExVR. 


“ But the favors we have to ask now,” replied the priest, 
“are not of a personal character: they are for onr country. 
That, you know, is very different. I suppose, though, you 
were right in not hurrying matters too much. He should 
have time to digest what we have told him. But when he 
comes again, I hope, Isabella, you will — ” 

“Why put it upon me to do this, uncle?” interrupted 
the Senorita. “ With all respect, I must say I should 
think you the more proper person to influence any one in 
political discussion.” 

“ So far as regards the politics of the matter,” replied 
the priest, “ you are probably right in your opinion ; but 
sentiment, you know, goes a great way with some persons.” 

“ Very true,” said Isabella ; “ but I should judge that in 
a man of Captain Gatewood’s cast of mind, sentiment, 
though it might have its weight, would be at all times 
subservient to reason.” 

“ Not at all times : there is just where you are mistaken. 
In this case sentiment predominates,” said the Padre ; then 
added, leaning over towards her and speaking in a very 
low tone, as though afraid the very trees might -hear, 
since it was quite evident there was no human being within 
ear-shot, “ And let me tell you, you have great influence 
over him.” 

“ Great influence over Captain Gatewood ? ” exclaimed 
Isabella, astonished not more by the assertion than by the 
confidential tone in which it was communicated. “ Why, 
uncle, I cannot think I have any influence whatever over 
him, except so far as my misfortunes may excite his com- 
passion and his desire to relieve them; and I have no 
doubt it would be the same with regard to any other 
woman in my situation. If I had rescued him from a set 
of merciless butchers, as he has rescued us, why, then 
indeed, I might naturally expect to hold over him such 


MORE THAN SHE COUEI) BEAR. 171 

influence as gratitude would beget — but certainly nothing 
more. Having done nothing of the kind, however, I am 
utterly at a loss to understand your meaning. Let me say, 
I think that, for once, uncle, you have got things strangely 
confused. Instead of recognizing our immense indebted- 
ness to the brave Captain, one might suppose you thought 
him the debtor.” 

“ Isabella,” said the priest, “ can it be possible that you, 
who have been so accustomed to such mat/vcrs and so ob- 
servant of them, should not yet have perceived that he is 
deeply in love with you ? ” 

“ Why, uncle ! ” she exclaimed, coloring. “ Indeed, you 
were never so mistaken in your life. Nor do I wonder at 
it. Not only are you wholly excluded by your vows from 
the indulgence of the tender passion yourself, but your 
calling must afford you very few facilities for noting its 
workings in others. So, I suppose you are excusable for 
such gross blunders when you step out of your legitimate 
sphere. But, if you will pardon me, I hardly think the 
stepj^ing out excusable. Uncle, do let me dare once advise 
you to refrain in future.” 

“ It is you who have made the mistake, Isabella,” 
calmly replied the priest, “and a very common mistake 
it is. It consists in supposing that my office is incom- 
patible with a thorough knowledge of the passion in ques- 
tion. The truth is, there is not in the whole world a 
situation more favorable than the priestly function to the 
study, not only of love, but of all the passions which bless 
and curse our kind. Very rarely indeed have I formed a 
wrong opinion on such a subject; and I am absolutely 
certain that my judgment in the present particular is 
correct.” 

“I never dreamed of such a thing,” said the Senorita in 
all sincerity, though now beginning to think there might 


]72 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

be something in it. Nor was it with less sincerity that she 
added, after a pause, “ No, indeed — my heart was too full 
of gratitude to him to think of anything else. I thought 
of kis bravery — his nobleness — but not once of his love.” 

“Well, Isabella,” said his Reverence, “I have only to 
say, it is high time that you should think of it, and of the 
almost unbounded influence it will give you over him for 
the furtherance of our cause.” t 

“Uncle, you certainly do not mean — ” 

Here the Senorita stopped ; and her uncle well knew that 
the sentence, unfinished as it was, was but a delicate mode 
of inquiring what he really did mean. 

“ I mean,” he replied emphatically, “that Captain Gate- 
wood has under his complete control a body of men who 
could sweep Texas from one end to the other, and expel 
every villain of a Gachupin beyond the Rio Grande.” 

Here it is but proper to explain that the Padre probably 
stretched a little his belief in the prowess of the Neutra- 
lians, the better to impress upon his niece the importance 
of securing their services. 

“ I did n’t know so much as that about it,” replied the 
lady. “ I was aware, though, that he commanded a very 
brave and very formidable band. But even had I known 
what you state — nay, had I known that the whole force 
of the United States was at his beck, and that on a word 
from him they would rush forth and drive every enemy of 
our freedom into the western ocean — even that could not 
induce or enable me to do an impossibility.” 

“You mean you could not love him?” 

“ That is exactly what I mean.” 

“But, Isabella, I don’t ask you to do that.” 

“ What, then, in heaven’s name, am I to infer from your 
remarks?” demanded the Senorita, coloring, to think that 
she had probably made a gross blunder on so delicate a 
subject. 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 173 

“I mean merely,” replied her uncle, “ that the^)lcl?’d 
feelings toward you must be availed of tq secure his co- 
operation in the coming campaign. I am convinced th^t 
without him we shall never succeed in an expeditior^ from 
these borders. We expected, as you know, to get a gr^at 
many volunteers from the United States. But that power, 
as we learn from thedatest files, is in constant expectation 
of an invasion by England ; and as long "as su'^h danger 
threatens them at home, we cannot hope for any large 
numbex of men from that quarter. 

“That Gatewood cannot be induced by ordinary means 
to aid Us has been rendered certain, or you may be sure I 
sliould not have approached you with a proposition which 
I know must be more or less revolting to your better feel- 
ings. Since Americans are to form our invading army, of 
uoupse they will have to be commanded by one of their 
own countrymen. And now comes the difficulty: the 
officer selected for this purpose — the only one whose ser- 
vices we were able to secure, but who, I doubt not, is the 
best qualified of them all — not long ago had a collision 
with a party of Gatewood’s men, which resulted in the 
capture of a number of them. The officer. Colonel Magee, 
thinking — whether justly or not I am unable to say — 
that thpy had been engaged in some unlawful acts, caused 
them to be tied up and flogged. As soon as Gatewood 
heard of this transaction he swore eternal hostility to that 
officer.” 

“ What else could have* been expected ? ” said the Seno- 
rita, becoming interested in the story. “ I am sure Cap- 
tain Gatewood’s sj^irit in thus resenting such an insult to 
his men is much to be admired.” 

“ Since that occurrence,” the Padre w’ent on without 
heeding her remark, “every plan of conciliation has been 
tried on him in vain. The justice of our cause has been 
lo* 


17 i MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

explained to him ; he has been plied with promises of re- 
ward to himself and his men in the shape of money, lands, 
and office, but he has invariably repelled them with anger 
or contempt. Colonel Magee has lately addressed himself 
to the task of atoning in some measure for his offence, by 
using his influence in effecting the release of the men on 
whom he inflicted so degrading a punishment, and who are 
now in the custody of the United States authorities, await- 
ing their transportation to the penitentiary having al- 
ready been sentenced. Should they be freed by Magee’s 
instrumentality, it is thought Gatewood’s active hostility 
may be neutralized. But that is the extent of our expec- 
tations: he will not, even then, assist us: he will only 
remain, at best, an idle spectator of our operations.” 

“ Now, uncle,” said the Senorita as soon as the Padre 
had paused, “ I have purposely refrained from interrupting 
you, hoping you would make your object clear. Have you 
finished ? ” 

“Yes — at least I thought so — that is, I supposed you' 
understood me.” 

“ Not at all, uncle ; and if you will but deign to be a 
little more explicit, you shall have my thanks. It was but 
a moment ago that you said I misinterpreted your mean- 
ing, and I have no idea of so soon subjecting myself to the 
same charge. I own that my failure to comprehend you 
may be due to dulness; but to show you that it is not 
owing to want of attention, I recollect distinctly your last 
words bearing on the subject supposed influence 

with the Captain, and what you womd ’h’ave me do in the 
matter. I can quote your exact words. (All you have 
spoken since,: though interesting enough as matter of 
fact, does not, so far as I can see, affect me personally ; 
nor does it indicate what you wish my course to be.) You 
said then that his feelings towards me must be availed of 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 175 

to secure his co-operation. Now, pray tell me precisely 
the meaning of that — of course, taking into consideration 
what I told you before — that to love him was impossible.’’ 

Up to this point in the colloquy, the Padre had volun- 
tarily stood on his usual familiar level with the Senorita: 
he had purposely refrained from elevating himself upon any 
such vantage-ground as age, guardianship, and his sacred 
calling gave him over her. It may have been that he 
hoped and preferred to convince her^vhile they stood on 
this equal footing. It is more probable, however, when we 
consider the character of the man, that those advantages 
had been kept in the background for much the same reason 
that a skilful general reserves his best forces not only dur- 
ing the skirmishing, but until the crisis has arrived, — when 
he brings them up in full force, often to his opponent’s dis- 
comfiture. Moreover, his Reverence was a little nettled 
that she should avail herself of his condescension thus to 
display her wilfulness, — as he chose to think it, — and a 
certain air of what he took to be downright effrontery. 

“Isabella,” he now began, on this new ground, — trans- 
formed almost instantly from the free and easy companion 
that he had assumed to be, into the old man, the priest, 
and the protector that he was of right, — “your affectation 
of ignorance and innocence compels me to tell you what 
you are doubtless not aware of — that I am acquainted with 
your past career as a belle. That, although I have not 
seen you, .1 have heard of you through others, — leading 
your captives in triumphal procession for days, weeks, or 
months, according to the estimated value of the conquest, 
then throwing them lightly aside, humbled, blighted, and 
still in chains. Need I remind you how artfully you have, 
a hundred times, thrown out the lure of a look, a smile, or 
a word, to the unsuspecting youth, who else had never come 
within the spliere of your attraction? Of the fatal whirl- 


17G MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


pool wliicli you kept ever in motion about you, invisible to 
your blinded victims, and felt by them only when too late? 
Need I recall the especial delight you have so often taken 
in seducing young men from the side of the faithful maidens 
to whom they were plighted, and to whom, but for you, 
they would have been happily wedded? And yet with all 
this human ruin about you, you could smile, and feast, and 
dance, and revel — ay, and pray to your God — no, not to 
your god, for that was heartless Fashion, but to the one 
God in heaven — as though, instead of pangs, you had been 
the dispenser of blessings in the circles where you moved. 
8o, you schemed, and plotted, and played the hypocrite — 
and for what? Merely to gratify your personal vanity — 
and this, but for a moment; for such conduct could only 
make for you, among those whose good opinion alone is 
worth securing — the true and virtuous — to say the least, 
a very questionable reputation. Such, then, was the stake for 
which you were so eager to play a game at once cruel to 
others and dangerous to yourself. Yet now, when tlie 
glorious ambition presents of serving your country by 
})ractising, for a little season, the same course toward a 
single individual, you can plead, in excuse, that it would 
shock your moral sensibilities and all your nice womanly 
feelings! To be sure, you did not say this in so many 
words, but it is plain enough you could have had no other 
meaning.” 

His Reverence having said his say, paused for an answer. 
It was, however, very evident that he had mistaken the 
character of the girl with whom he was dealing. Instead 
of showing signs of penitence, as he quite expected she 
would on hearing this sharp rebuke and this formidable 
exposition — bursting into tears, and then falling im- 
pulsively at his feet, craving his forgiveness in his spiritual 
as well as his social capacity — she did nothing of the sort; 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 177 

but, after listening to him throughout, apparently unmoved 
either by the severity of his remarks or the bitter tone in 
which they were expressed, she calmly said : 

“ Uncle, while I confess, to my shame, that too much of 
what you have said is true in spirit, I must explain wherein 
you have been entirely too hard on your niece. Now, I 
don’t mean to doubt for a moment that you haye heard all 
this; but I am very sorry you could bring yourself to 
believe such a story of me. My conduct in society has 
been most grossly misrepresented to you — from what 
motive I scorn to conjecture, as I scorn to ask, and indeed 
care not to know, the source whence the damaging gossip 
came. I have never gone further than to array, in all the 
attractiveness which I could summon, such charms as 
nature gave me, and to display them before those I met, 
perhaps without due regard to consequences. But as to 
that aggressive policy of deliberate conquest with which 
you charge me, I have never been guilty of it — never. I 
confess that I have set my tongue to honeyed phrases, my 
lips have coined their sweetest smile, my eyes have looked 
their sweetest looks, hoping — cruelly if you choose — that 
victims would fall at my feet, and knowing full well the 
pangs that I caused the while; but I uttered no false 
-words — did no false acts in all my career — and never 
once have I, as you have accused me, attempted to lure a 
lover from his plight ; that, I would scorn to do. 

“ Such is a truthful picture of my career in the gay 
cities of Mexico — the capital included — where so much 
attention was lavished on me by those who petted, and as 
I freely own, spoiled me too. I do not ask or expect you 
to pardon even these violations of sincerity, trivial though 
they are in comparison with those you have held me guilty 
of: I know they were wrong. Yet is it due not only to 
myself but to you, to say that, if you knew what caused all 


178 MORE Til AX SHE COULD BEAR. 


this — if you could read the secret which rankled in my 
bosom and drove me to such a course, with the hope of 
temporary relief, though I must say the relief did not 
come — you could not find it in your heart to heap on 
me reproaches which otherwise I might well deserve.” 

Why, Isabella,” said the Padre, whose expression, from 
being stern, had suddenly become deeply touched with 
compassion — for he really loved his niece — “I never 
heard a hint of anything of the kind: I always thought 
you a gay and heartless flirt.” 

“ And so did others,” was the reply ; “ nor do I wonder 
much. Heaven knows I tried to appear so. As to my 
secret, of course you never heard of that. There is only 
one person in the world — if, indeed, even that person is 
living — who knows of it, or, so far as I am aware, so 
much as suspects it. 

“But, uncle,” she added, after a pause, “there is, just 
now, so much pity in your face, — so different from what 
was to be seen there a few moments ago, — that I begin to 
feel like laying bare my heart to you ; partly that you may 
never make me such a proposition as you have made to- 
day, and partly that you may afford me, if possible, some 
spiritual comfort.” ^ 

“Certainly, Isabella: by all means do so. I think it 
quite time I should learn something of your life during the 
years you were separated from me, since it seems I know 
nothing of it — at least so little as to have grossly wronged 
you.” 


MORE TIIAX SPIE COULD BEAR. 179 


CHAPTER XIX. 

Clonm. Say’st thou, that house is dark ? 

Malvolio. As hell, Sir Topas. — Twelfth Night. 

If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an 
improbable fiction. — Twelfth Night. 

By my faith, you have great reason to he sad.— As You Like It. 

D O you remember, uncle,” the Senorita began, “ when 
those brave Americans — Nolan’s men — were marched 
into San Antonio, as prisoners, ten years ago?” 

“ Certainly I do. I saw them enter the plaza under 
guard, with their hands tied behind them.” 

“And you know how' much father thought of Nolan, 
who so often risked his life, and at last lost it, in laying 
the foundation of our liberties? Well, father took me — 
child though I was — to the plaza to see them. I think, 
however, I could have seen only one of them. At any rate, 
I have no recollection whatever of the others. That one 
was quite a youth ; and although he was ragged — for he 
had been captured nearly a year before — and his beau- 
tiful hair was tangled and matted from long neglect, I 
thought at once he was the handsomest man, both in face 
and form, I had ever seen. 

“ While father held me by the hand, I stood in front of 
the stranger, as he sat himself on a stone to rest, and, with- 
out knowing what I did, stared at him in silent admiration. 
At length, when I saw that my father was engaged in conver- 
sation with one of the other prisoners, I could not resist the 
temptation to slip my hand out of his and steal away from 
him into the young man’s lap. He seemed to have taken 
possession of my very soul, and I could think of nothing 


180 MORE THAX SHE COULD BEAR. 


else. I asked him his name. He told me in the richest 
tones, and I blushed as I told him mine. It did not at 
first occur to me even to pity him. Indeed, I should have 
thought — had I thought at all about it — myself the more 
pitiable of the two. 

“At last, while longing to have him put his arm around 
me and caress me, and wondering why he did not, — 
thinking him a cold, unloving creature, — I saw that his 
hands were tied tight behind him. The tears then rushed 
to my eyes — and to his, too, as I vainly tried to unloose the 
cords that bound him. Seeing the condition of his hair, I 
took the comb from my head and combed out his tangled 
tresses of gold. I knew nothing of what was going on 
around me until I was awakened from my childish dream of 
— well, I know not what it was, since it could not have 
been love at that tender age, I suppose, — by the guard 
tearing him away from me, to resume their weary tramp 
to the distant provinces, where the mine or the dungeon 
awaited them all. I watched them as they filed ou 
through the town. He looked back once, with a long 
gaze, at us — at me, I fondly hoped it was — and the 
moment he disappeared around the street-corner I rushed 
into my father’s arms and burst into tears, quite regard- 
less of the crowd. I wept the whole way home, and fretted 
myself into a fever, of which I was ill for weeks, and which 
came near bringing me to my grave. 

“ The prisoners were marched to Chihuahua ; and my 
father, who feared they would be put to death, embraced 
every opportunity to learn their fate. It would have been 
vain for him, belonging, as he did, to the liberal party, to 
make any efforts for their release : it 'would have been far 
worse than vain — it would have made their release alto- 
gether hopeless. For more than two years they were kept 
in prison without a trial ; and when at last they were 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 181 


arraigned, the evidence against them was found to he so 
very slight that the judge ordered them to beset at liberty. 
But Salcedo, who commanded the northern provinces, 
remanded them immediately to prison, and sent a copy of 
the proceedings to the King of Spain. 

“Three years afterwards a royal decree was received, 
ordering that the judge who had released them should be 
removed from office, and that one out of every five of them 
should be put to death. As there were only ten at first, 
and as one had since died, it was decided, after much 
debate, that but one should be executed. After being 
caused to kneel around a drum, on which stood a tumbler 
and dice, the nine were all blindfolded and made to throw 
by turns — the one throwung the least number to be the 
victim. I recollect so well when father read aloud to us 
the account of it from the gazette he had received, which 
gave the sad details of the affair. 

“ At this time I was fourteen years of age, and the image 
which had at first sight, six years before, taken such complete 
possession of my fancy, so far from fading away with time, 
had become more vivid to me than ever, whether dreaming or 
musing ; and I waked at last to the consciousness that the 
intervening years had changed the pity of childhood into 
love, — which, hopeless though it seemed, was all in all to 
me — constantly occupying my thoughts and shaping all 
my visions of happiness; for, that I could be happy in the 
love of any other seemed to me utterly impossible. 

“ Following this minute description of the arrangement 
for throwing the dice, came the name of each and the 
respective numbers thrown. Of course I knew but one 
name of them all. It stood very far down on the list, and 
I thought my father, as he read, would never get to it ; and 
yet when he came to it, how I feared the result ! The first 
man had thrown very low numbers — three and one; the 
16 


182 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


next five or six did much better; and when he read, at 
last, the name of my favorite, my heart throbbed, my brain 
grew dizzy, and I almost sank to the floor for fear his 
throw would be lower than the lowest, and so seal his 
doom ; but when it was announced four and one, I could 
scarcely refrain from clapping my hands for joy. The poor 
fellow was executed. 

“The remaining eight were sentenced to ten years’ im- 
prisonment — making altogether eighteen dreary years. 
They were sent to difierent prisons; and our country — as 
you know, uncle — is cursed with so many of those gloomy 
piles that we could never learn where the poor victims 
were. 

“Soon afterwards I went to the beautiful city of Quere- 
taro, and entered the convent-school. That unfortunate 
prisoner was still the burden of my thoughts. I resolved, 
if possible, to search every cell in the city-prison. The 
fathers who had charge of our school often visited the 
prisoners to give them such spiritual aid as they required. 
I accompanied them whenever they would suffer me to do 
BO. There was one good old father — Father Cabaso, — 
with whom I was a great favorite, — who always allowed 
me to go with him. The girls, as well as the teachers, and 
indeed all my friends, thought — and it was surely not un- 
reasonable they should — that it was a strange freak for a 
young lady to frequent such forlorn and filthy places : I 
but smiled when they so expressed themselves, and let it 
pass as a freak, — telling no one that it was really the sole 
aim and hope of my life. 

“As soon as we were fairly inside the w^alls, and the 
Padre had left me and sought the cell of some lone sufferer, 
I always threw off my naturally grave manner, and com- 
menced humming strange tunes, and tripping along the 
dark and narrow passages, intending that the sentinels and 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 183 


keepers should thus be made to think me some half-witted 
thing not worth thejr watching; and, as they knew more- 
over that I came with the priest, they put but little restraint 
on my movements; so, I soon had the run of the prison. 
In this w^ay, I had an opportunity, in the course of several 
months, to peep, between the bars, into nearly all the cells, 
one by one, and get a glimpse of their inmates. Besides, 
I w^ould always get Father Cabaso to tell me the names of 
those he visited. 

“One day, when far in the interior of the vast prison, I 
somehow became bewdldered, and, I suppose, in trying to 
make my way out, took a wTong turn and went still further 
into the mazes of the building. The deeper I penetrated 
the greater grew my confusion, and 1 began to be seriously 
alarmed lest I should never get out, but perish in those 
gloomy recesses. You may know, there was no acting now 
— no humming snatches of song, as heretofore, — no tripping 
along the stony floors, — no playing the idiot-girl. All 
this was forgotten: nay, I should have started at the least 
sound of even my own voice: the lightest echo of my foot- 
steps along those dreary vaults made my heart throb wildly 
and my flesh creep wdth the chill of fear. 

“At length I found myself in a low arched passage. 
This was so dark and damp that, when I recollected I had 
descended several flights of stairs in my eagerness to find 
some outlet from the dreadful place, I concluded that I 
must be then far under ground. Here I stopped, for the 
first time, and listened breathlessly, hoping to hear a voice, 
or at least a noise of some kind from one of the apartments 
over my head, or from some one passing in the street — 
forgetting how thick were the dismal walls. Not a sound 
of any kind could I hear. 

“My eyes, during the time I was standing here, were of 
course getting gradually accustomed to the darkness. I 


184 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

could at first distinguish nothing whatever; then, I could 
see the gray walls around and above me, though still sa 
indistinctly that I thought them some impalpable illusion 
within the eye itself or upon the brain, until I cautiously 
put forth my hand and touched the cold hard surface, down 
which the beaded damps were trickling — each minute be- 
ing marked by a drop falling sullenly on the chilly floor. 
Here I stood, with this cheerless timepiece ticking in my 
ear, trying to distinguish surrounding objects, which were 
becoming more and more visible, until at length I could see 
several great iron bars fixed across a loophole in the wall, 
while two small points of light shone between them, seeming 
to come through the opposite wall of a cell to whose interior 
the loophole led. I stepped nearer, resolved to peep, even 
at such a time, into that hideous place: he might be even 
there. Scarcely had I done so, when I found that the two 
points of light, which I had imagined to come from the 
outer air, were a pair of eyeballs glaring close upon me 
through the grate. I stood transfixed to the spot. I 
trembled in every limb, but still gazed, as though spell- 
bound, on those glowering orbs. The next moment, I heard 
my name come forth from the dungeon before me, distinct 
enough indeed, but in tones so hollow and unnatural that 
I screamed at the top of my voice and ran away, well-nigh 
frenzied with terror. It seemed to me, at the moment, that 
no mere human eye could have recognized my features in 
such dense darkness; and as the voice was so unearthly, I 
thought the whole thing the nightmare of some horrible 
dream. But when I found my scream did not wake me, I 
concluded this was no dream indeed, but that supernatural 
powers were at work in this Stygian air. I had no time 
then to reflect, as I afterwards did, that eyes long im- 
mured in such a place could accommodate themselves 
even to such Cimmerian darkness as there surrounded me. 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


185 


“ I rushed at random along the windings of that dismal 
labyrinth — turning — ascending — descending — wher- 
ever there was a way clear before me. I had no object in 
view but that of motion, — afraid that if I stopped only for 
a moment, a cold ghastly hand would be laid upon my 
bare shoulder — an icy breath would din dreadful words 
into my ear. Although I could not have been thus occu- 
pied longer than a few minutes at most, it seemed an age. 
But my scream had been heard by those who had already 
descended to those subterranean depths in search of me ; 
for Father Cabaso having missed me, had given the alarm. 
The faint sound of approaching steps and the dim glimmer 
of a lantern sufficed to stay my wild flight from the spectre 
of my terrified fancy. No sooner was I assured of aid at 
hand than I swooned away. When I recovered, I found 
myself in one of the upper apartments, with Father Cabaso 
bending over me. He very naturally attributed ray com- 
pletely unnerved condition solely to my getting lost in the 
dreary mazes below ; and as that was amply sufficient to 
account for it, I did not then choose to enlighten him 
further. As soon as we reached the convent, however, I 
told him all about my prison adventure — who I thought 
the prisoner was, and how, years before, I had chanced to 
meet with him in my native town. Then, falling at his 
feet, I implored him, in the name of heaven and humanity, 
to visit, if possible, the suffering victim. 

“ Father Cabaso had a soft heart, and was easily per- 
suaded on this occasion. Indeed, to do him justice, I 
cannot suppose he would have required any persuasion, 
but only a simple statement of the facts. I thought, how- 
ever, in my anxiety, that a show of interest on my part — 
as I knew I had influence with him — would be the safer 
plan — at least, could do no harm. He returned to the 
prison immediately, and, on questioning the keeper of the 
IG* 


186 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

underground cells, he admitted — evidently with much 
reluctance — that there was a political convict there, whom 
no one but himself ever visited, — and he only to place his 
food and drink at the grate. 

The good Father expressed great indignation that the 
priests had never been told of such an inmate, that 
they might administer to his comfort. The inhuman 
keeper replied that, as the prisoner was a heretic as well as a 
traitor, he supposed the holy men would, of course, take no 
interest in him, — and so he had never mentioned him in '' 
their presence. There he had been, in that dreadful hole, 
for three years ! 

“After persuasion and threats had alike failed to secure 
his admission to the prisoner, the Father succeeded at 
last in gaining entrance by bribing the keeper with a large 
sum of money, which I gave him for the purpose, — having 
sold some of my jewels to procure it. When he entered 
the cell, he found, by aid of a lantern, that starvation 
and inhuman treatment, and their necessary result — a low 
form of fever — had so far done their work on the unfortu- 
nate victim, that he could live but a few days longer if 
allowed to remain in that condition. 

“Kelieving his immediate wants as well as he could 
amid the discouraging surroundings. Father Cabaso next 
set himself about the task — and a very formidable one it 
was — of influencing the authorities to allow the prisoner 
to be sent to the city hospital. At length, after a great 
many interviews with the Governor and the Captain- 
General, and much importunity and earnest solicitation, 
assisted by the certificate of an influential physician, — 
that the prisoner’s life might be still saved by the course ’ 
proposed, but that otherwise he must die in a very short 
time, — the Padre carried his point, and the poor prisoner 
was transferred to the hospital. 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 187 


“When I first visited him there, although he recognized 
me immediately on my entrance, — putting forth from the 
couch where he lay his thin, trembling hand, and smiling, 

I could not for the life of me bring myself to believe, at 
once, that this was the beau-ideal of my childhood, — and, 
indeed, if the truth must be told, of all my intervening 
years. Unfortunately, I had not thought very seriously of 
the sad changes which his trying situation must necessarily 
have wrought in his appearance. It may have been very 
thoughtless — or if you choose, very foolish — in me, but I 
really half expected to see him the handsome hero that he 
was six years before; for his image had been kept as fresh 
in my memory during all those years as it was on the first 
and only day I had seen him. I was ill prepared, there- 
fore, as you may well know, for the shock which I was 
destined to receive on this memorable occasion. 

“On my first look at his face, I stood and stared at him, 
much as I had done in the plaza at San Antonio; but, oh, 
— except the pity which I felt in both instances, — with 
what different feelings! There was not a single trace of 
his beautiful self. He was so emaciated, that the skin 
seemed resting directly against the bones, with no inter- 
vening flesh. His eyes shone with a sort of phosphorescent 
light; and, as the pupils had not yet contracted from the 
unnatural size which they had attained in the dark of his 
dungeon, I seemed, while gazing into their depths, to be 
looking into a cavern, where I could see a soul struggling 
to be free from its fleshy shred. Through those enlarged 
windows I could almost imagine I saw all the secret thoughts 
of the unhappy man. 

“ Despite the fever which ymre him, there was no trace 
of color in his hollow cheek. His long beard was unkempt 
and scrawny. His hair had lost, in that vile den of black- 
ness, its sunny hue and sheen as completely as if directly 


188 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


dependent for these on day’s glorious orb. It was dry, 
harsh, and frizzled — like hair that has been shrivelled dead 
by a whisk of flame : it looked as though, if shaken, it 
would fly off into dust. Indeed, the mould of death seemed 
to rest over hair, beard, and face alike. Oh ! as I saw all 
this, I wondered how he could be alive. 

“He still continued to hold out his hand, and seeing that 
I did not come forward at once — doubtless little knowing 
himself bow fearfully he was changed — he called my name 
in a subdued and gentle tone. His voice, as he did so, 
seemed to have lost much of that appalling hollowness 
which had so shocked me when echoed from the walls of 
the dungeon, and in it alone, of all that was before me, 
could I recognize any trace of my hero. His calling my 
iiame broke the spell by which I was bound to the spot 
where I stood, and I rushed at once to his side. 

“It is useless to say how faithfully I nursed him through 
the long weary days and nights during which his life hung 
on a frail thread. He seemed, all this time, to grow neither 
better nor worse. When, at last, the scale turned a little 
in his favor, how anxiously did I watch for the first dawn- 
ing on his face of those manly beauties of old, which I knew 
the recovery of his health must needs give him back. One 
by one they came: but, oh, how slowly! — at first, scarcely 
to be seen, — then, flitting away and returning like an 
escaped bird loth to be retaken, — but remaining longer 
and longer, each time, till settled at last. 

“But it was weeks after this, before he could even rise 
from his couch ; and as soon as he did so, the cruel wretches 
began to talk of putting him back into that horrible cell, 
— as though, indeed, they had suffered him to be taken out 
of it for the sole purpose of prolonging his life, that they 
might have the delight of torturing him again, instead of 
the trouble of burying him. 


MORE THAN. SHE COULD BEAR. 189 


“ It was too dreadful to think of! To see those eyes that 
had but just got used to^the upper light, to which the all- 
wise God had so well adapted them, go down again to those 
hideous shades; that manly form, which He had made erect 
to walk His beautiful earth, to be now consigned to the 
narrow bounds of a living tomb, — there to be dwarfed, 
and shrivelled, and distorted from the proud comeliness of 
the image of God I 

“ I therefore proposed to him — desperate though the 
plan seemed, in his weak condition — to attempt an escape 
from the hospital before he should be transferred — offering 
to aid him all in my power. He at first refused, — saying, 
he would rather go back to prison and run all its fearful 
risks, than implicate me in so grave a political offence. But 
that very night he lay awake and concocted a plan, in 
which, although I was to give my assistance, it was not at 
all probable that I should ever be detected. 

“ The guard of the hospital was to be bribed to let him 
pass, about sunset. By the aid of a friend, he was to be 
disguised as a Mexican citizen, that the corrupted guard 
might have a plausible pretext for not stopping him as he 
should pass out. The hospital was in the eastern suburbs ; 
he was to make his way on foot, until he had cleared all 
the houses. He was then to turn off into the woods and 
secrete himself. When night should come, in order to 
elude his pursuers, he was to make a circuit around the city 
and enter on the side opposite the point at which he had 
left it. I was to be in waiting for him at the public foun- 
tain, — which, as you know, is near the western suburb, — 
and guide him to the house of a faithful friend whose kind 
offices I was to secure to shelter him under her roof until 
he should regain his full strength. Then, when all pursuit 
and all hope of re-capturing him should have subsided, his 
difficulties would have but fairly commenced : he was to 


190 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


attempt the herculean task of making his way to the 
United States, through Texas, on foot — a distance of 
fifteen hundred miles — travelling only by night. 

“ This plan was carried out. I had sold all my remain- 
ing jewels, and had given him the gold they brought, to 
bear him on his dreary journey. Whether he ever suc- 
ceeded in reaching his native land or not, I have never 
been able to learn ; nor do I even know whether he is now 
alive. I never saw him after the night I guided him to 
the house where he was to sojourn. A vague rumor had, 
somehow, got abroad that he had never left the city. I 
was suspected of having indirectly aided in his escape from 
the hospital, and was therefore closely watched day and 
night by the official spies, — so that an interview would 
have been extremely hazardous to both. 

“ I may as well say, however, that, while in the hospital, 
as soon as he had begun fairly to recover from his pros- 
trate condition and to be himself again, he had told me of 
his love ; and I suppose it is almost useless to add that it 
was fully returned. 

“ For weeks and months ray suspense was dreadful, wholly 
ignorant, as I was, of his fate, — whether he had made 
good his way out of the miserable country, or had perished 
of cold or starvation in the long stretch of mountain and 
desert which he had to traverse ; or whether some of the 
many bands of robbers that infest the way, had plundered 
and murdered him; or whether — and this would indeed 
have been the worst fate of all — he was retaken on the 
route, perhaps just as he was getting home, and plunged 
once more into the gloom of some dungeon. 

“ When I was sent to New Orleans to finish my educa- 
tion, I used every effort to ascertain his fate. Among 
other means, I advertised in the gazettes of the country, 
requesting to be informed, by any one who might know, 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 191 


whether or not he was still living — and where. But I 
never could learn a word of him ; and when the time came 
to return home I was still in the depths of despair. 

“ Up to this time, I had not recovered my flesh and 
strength and my olden flow of spirits, which, from the day 
of our parting, I began to lose. My eye had grown dim, they 
said ; the color had left my cheek, and I could not enjoy 
the society even of my dearest friends. It seemed, indeed, 
that the longer I lived the more miserable I became. 

“ At length came an invitation from my aunt, to visit 
her at the Capital. It seemed indeed like the very mock- 
ery of woe to accept such a bid : yet I did accept it. The 
truth is, grief had by this time told so terribly on my 
health, that I felt I must do something to divert my mind 
from brooding over these untold sorrows — or I must die; 
and as for death, I doubt not you will believe me, uncle, 
when I tell you I knew full well I was not fit for that 
So, strange as it may seem, I caught eagerly at a season to 
be spent at the Capital to snatch me from the grave. My 
dear parents could not fail to see — as, indeed, no one 
could — that my strength and health were sinking day by 
day, and they were seriously alarmed ; but little did they 
dream of the cause of my decline. They urged me to go — 
hoping benefit from the change. 

*‘My kind father gave me a splendid outfit, and soon I 
was on my way to the city of Mexico. When I reached 
it, I plunged at once into its gayeties, and was soon whirl- 
ing in the vortex of its social splendors. But, uncle, what 
you have already recounted of my career must have re- 
ferred to this season at the Capital. Though, as I said, 
you did me gross wrong in many respects, in others your 
picture was a true one. Inasmuch, however, as I corrected 
your misapprehensions at the time you uttered them, I will 
not here repeat what I then said. Yet I will further ex- 


192 MOKE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

plain that my sole object was not vanity, as you charged, 
but the distraction of my wretched thoughts, — and I was 
only too willing to embrace anything that seemed to promise 
such a boon. When one of your sex meets with a grievous 
disappointment of that kind, he is fain to seek the bloody 
held, even in an unjust cause, and wade in wild carnage — 
ay, and gloat as he wades. And although his conquests 
are really achieved to ease the pangs of a stricken heart, 
they are all set down to his honor — his name is bruited 
abroad, and he is made a hero. I have known many such 
instances. But when woman would strive to forget her 
broken heart in the bloodless conquest of gay cavaliers, 
whose wounds are soon healed by other eyes as bright, and 
other lips perchance as false in the end, she, forsooth, is 
branded as a heartless flirt. 

“Still, uncle, I know I was wrong. I knew it at the time 
— and all the time; nor, if it is any comfort to you to hear 
it, did I escape the just punishment even then; for that 
season of revel, and dance, and song, and of all that was 
gay and gorgeous, was, I think, without exception, the 
most miserable of my whole miserable life. 

“Then came the Revolution; and it was a great relief 
to me individually, even apart from the hopes which it 
held out for our freedom. For I now put aside at once 
my jewels and laces, my wiles and revels, and took my 
stand by the cheerless couches of our wounded heroes. 
Nor have I felt, for one moment since, the least desire to 
return to those empty ways and baubles of fashion. They 
have lost their attraction, and never more can they have 
charms for me. And yet you would force them back upon 
me now — or something most unpleasantly akin to them. 
And for what? Why — with shame be it said! — that I 
may wrong one who has proved our benefactor to such de- 
gree that our eternal gratitude is due him, instead.” 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 193 


CHAPTER XX. 

I have unclasp’d 

To thee the book even of my secret soul. — Twelfth Night. 

I do not seek to quench your love’s hot fire, 

But qualify the fires of extreme rage, 

Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason. 

Two Gentlemen of Verona. 

T he Senorita recounted her story with much feeling 
throughout, — so that, by the time she had ended, her 
heart was filled well-nigh to overflowing with its various 
emotions. The Padre was really much moved by her 
recital ; but, for policy’s sake, not wishing to appear so, 
he had affected, from beginning to end, an indifference, to 
the extent, at times, even of appearing bored. This cold- 
ness on the part of her relative annoyed her no little ; but 
she was resolved that it should not chill the current of her 
narrative when once begun. This seemed to flow forth like 
lava from her breast, where all the elements of her nature — 
the dross no less than the gold — were molten down to- 
gether by the heat, of a passion which this sad retrospection 
had rekindled in all its original intensity. 

During the latter part, the Padre was carrying on in 
his mind a sort of double process. He was not only listen- 
ing to every word of the fair speaker, but at the same time 
was thinking what course he should pursue when she 
should have finished : so that, no sooner had she paused, 
than he was ready to begin. 

“Isabella,” he said, “although this was, beyond all 
doubt, a case of true love on your part, I can see no very 
good ground for supposing that the gentleman himself felt 
more than gratitude. He could scarcely do less than say 
17 


194 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


he loved you, after your unwavering devotion for so many 
years, crowned by your noble efforts to save his life, and 
by sacrifices, too, which imperilled your own.’^ 

“ How, sir, can you be so cruel ? It is not so : it cannot 
be so. Oh, no — no — he loved me ! ” exclaimed the Se- 
norita, bursting into tears. 

“ Well, then,” calmly replied the priest, “ w^hy has he 
not visited you since, at San Antonio ? ” 

“He visit me at San Antonio?” echoed ,the lady — 
repressing her tears, plainly with great effort. “Why, 
uncle, you surely did not hear my story. What would his 
life have been worth had he dared show himself there even 
for a moment ? ” 

“ True ! ” said the Padre promptly, — seeing his blunder, 
though nowise disconcerted thereby. “ But, at any rate, 
Isabella, the least he could do would have been to commu- 
nicate with you, and let you know that he still loved you.” 

“Uncle,” replied the Senorita, “surely you either have 
a bad cause, or you plead it very loosely. Have you then 
forgotten — I know he has not forgotten it — that our 
tyrants have their swarms of spies, who search every 
stranger and open every letter that enters the country ; 
and that, had he written, not only would I have been im- 
plicated, but my whole family must have shared the fearful 
consequences?” 

The uncle did not reflect that his niece had probably 
run, a hundred times a day, over all the pros and cons 
bearing on this and every kindred subject ; and that she 
must, therefore, have greatly the advantage of him in 
discussing such questions. 

“ Perhaps this is even so. But, Isabella,” pursued his 
Keverence — finding she had got the better of him on 
these points, and resolved on a diversion to secure his 
triumph in this controversial arena, upon which, as was 


MOP.E THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 195 

made sufficiently evident some time back, he had entered 
as a special pleader, and not at all for truth’s sake — “ But, 
Isabella, I was arguing only on the violent assumption 
that he is still living, — which, however, I have no idea is 
really the case. Nor can I conceive how you can so hope 
against hope. If he attempted his escape by land, the arid 
wastes that he had to traverse, and the bleak and desolate 
mountains that lie directly across his track, are obstacles 
which, even if no savage robbers frequented them, it would 
be utterly impossible that one in his feeble condition could 
surmount. On the other hand, should he look to the water 
for transit and succeed in making his way to the Gulf, — 
which would be in itself no easy matter, — there would 
even then not be one chance in a hundred that a ship 
would be found there to convey him to a friendly shore. 

“ No, Isabella,” the Padre went on after a pause. “ I 
have little doubt that your friend — or lover, as you choose 
to call him — has long since succumbed to famine or vio- 
lence, and that his bones are bleaching somewhere along 
the thousand miles or more which, in his desperation, he 
essayed to traverse.” 

“Uncle, I cannot think it!” said the Senorita, — the 
tears starting afresh at the horrible idea. “I have an 
abiding hope that he escaped.” 

“ I know you have,” the other replied ; “ and it is just 
because I do not wish you to hope any longer against hope 
and drag out your life in one unbroken, bitter disappoint- 
ment, that I give you the only view which a reasonable 
being — one not wholly blinded, like yourself, by passion — 
can take. 

“ And now, my dear niece,” added his Reverence, more 
in a tone of soothing compassion than he had before shown, 
“ between the probability, on the one hand, amounting al- 
most to a certainty, that he has perished, — and on the other, 


196 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


the supposition — very reasonable, to say the least — that, 
if he did escape, he has already led to the altar some one of 
his fair countrywomen, to atone, in the quiet of domestic hap- 
piness for his prolonged and horrible sufferings ; — with this 
view of the case, I must say I think you had much better 
give up these desperate longings, which can only end in 
being dashed at last. Should you ever meet with him in 
the future, I doubt not you will find him exceedingly 
grateful for your noble efforts in his behalf — but no more. 
And pray tell me, what comfort could mere gratitude, even 
the warmest, afford one in your state of mind — craving 
the intensest love ? 

“ It amounts to this, then,” he continued, after awaiting 
a reply for a little while, during which she wept, but said 
not a word : “ If he lost his life in his attempt to escape, 
or afterward, from the exposure to which the attempt sub- 
jected him, you can, of course, never hope to see him 
again this side the grave ; while, if he is still living, and 
wedded to another, you would not, or at least should not, 
wish ever to meet with him again. Let me advise you, 
therefore : make up your mind to assume at once the same 
relative position to the world that you would now occupy 
had he never lived, or had you never met him. Forget him, 
or, if you cannot do that, at least think of him only as one 
who is in the other world, or beyond your reach in this.” 

“ Uncle,” she at length replied, “ I do indeed begin to 
think, with you, that he must have perished ; but let me 
say, you make little impression on me when you intimate 
that, if still alive, he does not love me. I am quite as cer- 
tain not only that he loved me then, but that he loves me 
still, as I am that there is a God in heaven.” 

“Well, my child, grant that he did love you, and does 
love you still, even as devotedly as you believe,” said the 
Padre, — gracefully abandoning his previous position, since. 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


197 


to hold it in the face of a faith so earnest was next to hope- 
less, — “ do you not see, nevertheless, that the impossibility 
of his ever reaching you or of communicating with you, — 
as you so lately explaine«^., to my entire satisfaction, — would 
cancel the betrothal, and justify his wedding with some one 
else, even though he could not love her wifli the same 
devotion ? ” 

“ If he is another’s,” she exclaimed with passion, “ then, 
indeed, I do not wish to meet him ever again. Nor, then, 
could I bear to mix longer with the world. 

“ Oh, uncle ! ” she cried in her agony, at the thought of 
that love which she had so long and so fondly cherished, 
proving at last hopeless, at the same time throwing herself 
at the Padre’s feet and clasping his knees, “I long to retire 
from this wretched world: it is so full of sin. and suffer- 
ing — love blighted — hopes crushed — friends murdered! 
I long for the quiet shades of the convent, where I may 
forget all but heaven, where such things cannot come.” 

“ Why may I not go there ? ” she demanded, looking up 
pleadingly in his face. “ Is there any reason why I should 
not?” 

“ Yes, my child,” replied the priest ; “the convent is no 
place for you now. It is intended for such as have no fur- 
ther mission in the outside world.” 

“ And what have I yet to do or suffer in this groaning 
world ? ” she asked. “ Tell me — and I will hasten to do 
and endure my portion, that I may be free to bid such 
scenes farewell forever.” 

“ I fear, Isabella,” replied the priest, “ that you are not 
the heroine I had hoped you were, when you can allow 
your ravings over an utterly hopeless passion to neutralize 
so much that is available in you for good. You seem, in 
this momentary blindness, to have lost sight of the fact 
that our bleeding country calls all her true children to her 
17 * 


198 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


aid. Yea — all — not only such as can strike bloody blows 
for her freedom, but those, too, who can urge others to 
strike, who else would but look idly on. Kise, then, above 
this one private grief,’^ continued the holy man, assisting 
her from her lowly attitude. “ Think of the millions that 
suffer — of the unborn millions that are yet to suffer, if 
tyranny be not struck down in our wretched land. Think 
no more of the convent. Though the desolation of the 
struggle might never reach your eye in those hushed re- 
cesses, nor the shriek of its victims your ear, yet rumors of 
the strife could not be wholly shut out; and when you heard 
them there, you would have to nurse the sharp remorse 
that you shrank from your duty, turned a deaf ear to your 
country in her sorest need, and selfishly sequestered your- 
self — leaving your fellow-citizens and friends to breast the 
merciless torrent without you — yet for you. Then, dry 
your tears, my child : go to your room, think on what I 
have said, and I doubt not your cooler reflections will in- 
duce you to forgo this folly, and to do all you can for the 
cause. I doubt not that in the end you will leave no stone 
unturned to influence this noble Chieftain and his brave 
fellows to render that aid which I am well convinced is 
vital to our success. Your duty, not only to your country, 
but to God, demands this of you ; and in so doing, should 
you commit any peccadillos, think of them lightly : the 
glorious end we have in view shall justify them all. Or 
should your conscience whisper you, at any time, that 
heaven is not fully appeased, you have but to come to me, 
and confess wherein you doubt, and I will give you free 
absolution for all.” 

Isabella, without making reply, sought her room, leav- 
ing her uncle to his meditations on what had passed. 
Once in the solitude of her own chamber, she began to 
recall the conversation,— - which, indeed, she had little 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 199 


difficulty in doing, inasmuch as every word had been 
vividly impressed on her mind at the time of its utter- 
ance. She dwelt more particularly on what had been 
said of the painful past — the- Padre’s theory, namely, — 
that her lover either had died, or had forgotten her. 
During the interview — especially the latter part of it — • 
she had well-nigh given him up as forever lost to her in 
one or the other of those almost equally dreadful modes, — 
the latter perhaps the more dreadful. But now that she 
came to think the matter over, her heart clung so yearn- 
ingly to its memory of him, that she felt it would be the 
laceration of her very soul to abandon all hope of ever 
meeting him again — and then not as another’s — but all 
her own ^ just as in the olden time. 

“If still living and loving me,” — such were her 
thoughts as she lay on her couch near the window, looking 
out on the waters of the lake, which, sporting, as they were 
just then, with the noonday beams, may have aided in 
inspiring her with the fleeting hope which she now in- 
dulged, — “ he will surely join our standard on these borders 
as soon as he hears of this projected invasion. It will be 
his first chance to reach my home, where he has every 
reason to suppose I am at this time. I do not wonder in 
the least that be has never yet attempted to reach it: 
indeed, I should have been alarmed for him had I heard 
of his making any such desperate effort heretofore. But 
if he hears of what is now on foot hereabouts, he surely 
ought to fly hither from any part of the world. I am 
certain I would do as much to meet with him. Ah ! have 
I not already done as much ? 

“But, then, if his own country is in danger from a 
foreign foe — as they say it is — would he come then f 
Could he be expected to leave his country in her time of 
trial? Ought he to prefer me to his country? Would I 


200 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


prefer him to my country? Why, I would die for my 
country, if my death could save it. Well, so would I die 
for him. Their claims seem equal : so, too, are the chances 
of his coming or not — that is, if he is still alive. But, 
alas! my uncle says his bones are whitening in the desert! 

“I fear there is indeed no hope. Henceforth, then, 
must I be in love only with freedom ; and if that be torn 
from me too, and my poor country be made hideous with 
the sweep of desolation and the clanking of chains, then, 
with no duty left me to perform in the outer world, the 
sombre shades of Queretaro’s convent may at last receive 
me, with no danger from the stings of remorse for having 
neglected my mission.” 


CHAPTER XXI. 

He hath known you but three days, and already you are no stranger. 

Twelfth Night. 

I am Cressid's uncle, 

That dare leave two together : fare you well. 

AlVs Well That Ends Well. 

If I help, what do you promise me ? 

AlVs Well That Ends Well. 

Do’t, and thou hast the one-half of my heart. 

Winter^s Tale. 

F or reasons best known to himself — though I suspect 
policy formed their basis — several days elapsed before 
Gatewood again visited the lake. By this time all traces 
of the impression which the conversation with her uncle 
had produced upon the Senorita, were erased — at least to 
outward seeming. She received the Captain just as she 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 201 


would have done had she never told the priest her sad 
story and heard his discouraging comment thereon, -or his 
expressed .opinion which led to the recital of that story ; 
namely, that their guest was smitten with her charms. 
Even under ordinary circumstances it would have been a 
debatable question whether or not she would have been 
justifiable in repelling him by the coldness of her manner, 
on an intimation received from a third party of near kin- 
ship, that the Captain looked upon her as dearer than a 
mere friend. But, taking into consideration how much 
she owed this stranger — how much they all owed him — ■ 
such restraint would not have been impolite merely — but 
rude and ungrateful. It would be ample time, surely, 
when he himself should make known to her with his own 
lips, any feeling which he might entertain warmer than 
friendship — it would surely be time enough then to reveal 
her true sentiments in the matter. 

So the Captain’s visit passed off without the least stiff- 
ness or restraint on the part of any. The Padre, — after 
the all-engrossing subject of politics had been exhausted, — 
like the man of varied reading and observation that he 
was, made himself agreeable on the many topics which 
came up, failing not, as he proceeded, to glean from his 
well-informed guest facts, both useful and entertaining, 
touching the history and condition of his own country. 
Isabella proved herself an appreciative listener; though 
not in that passive capacity alone was she content to con- 
tribute to the general entertainment, — but occasionally 
unfolded from her well-stored mind such glimpses of know- 
ledge concerning the themes under discussion as gave ear- 
nest of her mental wealth. 

From this time forth, the Captain visited these agreeable 
strangers every day or two, and at length scarcely a day 
passed that he did not seek their society. In a month 


202 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


more he -may be said to have almost made it his home; 
and, to all appearance, never was guest domiciliated in a 
way more agreeable not only to himself but like-wise to his 
entertainers. 

At length he ventured, at intervals, to make the Senorita 
certain presents — trifling, at first, to be sure, though all 
very handsome of their kind — which he doubtless had 
peculiar facilities for procuring from New Orleans. He 
began with such as he thought would contribute to her 
amusement and diversion ; for he naturally judged that, in 
her situation, time must pass but tardily. These were 
chess, backgammon, cards, et cetera. Then, there must 
needs be some one to play with her. This want he, of 
course, was at no loss to supply — and that, too, very far 
short of the Crescent City. At another time, he brought 
a splendid hammock, and hung it himself picturesquely be- 
neath the trees. Soon afterwards he brought certain fruits 
of the chase — not such, indeed, as were either meet or meat 
for the table ; for to supply the strangers with such was, 
with him, an every-day matter — but beautifully orna- 
mented skins, taken from wild animals which he had killed 
with his own hand. He well knew that the Spaniards and 
their descendants were a lazy people, fond of taking things 
calmly and coolly, and much given to lolling about in free 
and easy style. So, these skins — which, after being 
tanned, he had caused to be tastefully garnished, most 
probably by some of the women who frequented the camp — 
soon took their places beneath the trees, in the immediate 
vicinity of the suspended hammock. One of them had 
been taken from a black bear, through whose skull Gate- 
wood had thought it best to send a pistol-ball, by way of 
assisting Grim, who was paying his respects to the power- 
ful creature’s throat : for this bear was so unusually large, 
that, for once, the hunter was afraid that doughty canine 
might not be able to hold his own in the struggle. 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 203 


The two remaining robes were composed, each, of a half- 
dozen skins — the one, of tiger-cats — the other, of leopard- 
cats. These beautiful animals — presenting the brightest 
spots and stripes that can be conceived — differ, in no re- 
spect, from the Bengal tiger and the African leopard, ex- 
cepting, of course, that they are much smaller — as indeed 
the adjunct implies — 'and proportionately less formidable, 
though, still, next to the panther, the most formidable 
animal in that region. 

And here beneath the trees might often be seen a loung- 
ing trio : the Senorita swinging in listless repose in her tas- 
selled hammock, while the Padre and the Captain were 
reclining near on their respective robes, — the weather, 
even in winter, being seldom such as to drive them to the 
shelter of the house. Then again the guest would chal- 
lenge the lady to cards or backgammon, and they would 
sit on the robes and play by the hour. 

One day, Gatewood brought his hostess a very welcome 
gift in the shape of a guitar, not only deftly constructed 
and exceedingly comely to look on, but of passing richness 
of tone. On this she often accompanied herself, singing 
some Spanish ballad, usually of the patriotic sort, and 
invariably composed in a plaintive strain. Sometimes 
the Chief would give the aid of his deep voice, proving 
himself no contemptible singer, — though he usually re- 
frained from joining her, vastly preferring, he said, that 
her tones alone should he heard. This admiration may 
have shown somewhat his partiality as a lover, yet it 
proved likewise his good taste, for, truth to say, there were 
but few who could excel the Senorita in quality of singing, 
while her touch upon the guitar was something exquisite, 
and to be thought of long after the tones she evoked had 
died away. 

She did not see proper to refuse any of these presents, in 


204 MORE THAN SHE COULD REAR. 


great measure, doubtless, because a refusal might tend to 
wound the feelings of the donor, which, for reasons already 
sufficiently dwelt upon, she was loth to do. When, at last, 
however, he brought her a beautiful and costly set of jew- 
elry, she would not accept it. 

Captain Gatewood, I know, will excuse me,” she said 
to him on the occasion of his proffering it, “ when I tell 
him that, on the breaking out of the war in my native 
country, I parted with all my jewelry for two reasons : In 
the first place, 1 wanted to aid the patriots to the amount it 
would bring in currency ; and then I did not feel as though 
I ought to display about my person such emblems of gayety 
while there was so much suffering among my friends, and 
so much of their precious blood was being shed. I there- 
fore made a resolution that I would indulge in no display 
of the kind while the dreadful struggle lasted.” 

To such reasonable grounds for rejecting his offer, the 
Captain could scarcely have found it in his heart to object, 
even had he been looking for some cause of quarrel with 
his fair hostess, — which, I am confident, the reader will 
believe me when I say he was far from doing. 

It is worthy of note, perhaps, that the Captain, with all 
his presents to the lady, never once gave her a single book, 
although such a gift would probably — taking all things 
into consideration — have been more appropriate, as it 
would certainly have been more appreciated, than any 
other. Now, the truth is, a present of books was the first 
thing he thought of and noted down while sending his 
orders to the city. But, on second sober thought, he 
argued within himself, that, even as it was, he would find 
difficulties enough in the way of winning the Senorita, 
and that with agreeable books as his rivals (himself to 
introduce them, too !) he would not stand half the chance 
he otherwise might do, to gain her affections. So, the many 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 205 


books which he had at first set down — very interesting 
ones, too — were erased from the list, and he selfishly con- 
fined his orders to such articles as she should be, in a 
measure, constrained to share with him, to the end that 
she might enjoy them herself. 

While these two were getting into the way of conversing, 
singing, and gaming together, the Padre was, somehow, 
getting — though not quite so gradually — into the way of 
going daily into town, to learn the news, not only for his 
own gratification, he said, but that his niece also might be 
properly informed of what was transpiring in the busy 
world, from which fate had so signally cut them both off. 
The Senorita thought it not altogether the right thing that 
he who was now as a father to her, should leave her so 
much with the stranger. Once, she went so far as to re- 
monstrate gently with him touching the matter. He, in 
explanation of his seemingly negligent conduct, represented 
to her how, during Magee’s and Bernardo’s absence, the 
entire duty and responsibility of looking after the interests 
of the cause had been devolved upon his surpliced shoul- 
ders. How there were often tidings to be gathered in 
town, on which immediate action must be taken. How 
there were daily arrivals there of persons from the United 
States, whom it was absolutely necessary that he should 
see, as temporary head of the concern, in order to expedite 
the organization of the impending campaign. And so 
forth and so on. 

These various excuses — and it is perhaps not too much 
to say, that, had a hundred others been needed to can-y 
the holy man’s end, they would all have been forthcoming 
— seemed to Isabella so plausible that she never again 
ventured to trouble him on that score. Now, the simple 
truth is, his Keverence — so far as any or all the above pleas 
for thus unseasonably absenting himself were concerned — 
18 


206 MOEE THAN SHE COULD BEAK. 


need not have gone into Natchitoches oftener than once a 
week, at most. His real object — to his shame, cloth and 
all, be it said (cloth in particular) — was not only to throw 
the two together as much as possible, without the restraint 
of his presence, but also to make Gatewood’s company — 
since she had no other — well-nigh indispensable to his 
niece, to the end that the love-masked petard, which he 
supposed would some day inevitably hoist the Captain, 
might not be prematurely exploded to the infinite detri- 
ment of the cause. 

In justice to the Senorita, we would say here, once for 
all, that although she was by no means blameless in this 
matter, there is much to be urged in extenuation of her 
conduct. Here is a young lady accustomed, all her life, 
not only to the very best society, but likewise to all those 
means afforded by wealth to make the heavy-winged hours 
glide pleasantly away. She suddenly finds herself trans- 
ported, by the fortunes of war, from such luxurious scenes, 
and set down in the midst of a howling wilderness. As 
though this was not in itself a hard enough blow of fate, 
she is next deserted by those who alone could have made 
her existence tolerable under such trying circumstances — 
for none of my readers will, I hope, for a moment sup- 
pose that the two old Mexican servants, steeped as they 
were in ignorance and superstition, could do more than 
supply her mere bodily wants. Here, too, is a young, — 
or, at most, a middle-aged man, — who is trying his best to 
make her time pass pleasantly. He is intelligent, hand- 
some, agreeable ; nay, more — he is, so far as she can judge, 
and for aught she has ever heard to the contrary, a man of 
noble impulses. And even more than that, again, — more, 
at least, to her, — he has saved herself and her dearest 
friends from a tragic fate. 

What then was she to do? Was she very much to 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 207 


blame, think you really, for merely giving him a most cap- 
ital chance to fall in love with her, if he was so disposed ? 

And even after she found out — not, indeed, by word 
of mouth, but by the more subtile test of look and manner — 
that this was already even so, should she be very harshly 
censured that she did not, even then, do that which would 
at once have driven him from her, and have thrown her 
back again on her own slender resources for whiling away 
the weary hours ? More than once he had absented him- 
self for a day or two, and she thought, each time, that the 
late evening hour, which always brought her uncle back 
to break her solitude, would never come. 

Is it to be wondered, even that, once or twice, when he 
introduced the subject of love in a general way, and she 
had good reason to think he designed giving it presently a 
personal turn, that he might learn his fate once for all, — 
is it matter of wonder, I say, that she averted the crisis by 
abruptly changing the subject? Thus did she put him off 
from day to day, from week to week, from month to month, 
though she must have known, all the time, full well — as 
woman does — that the will-o’-the-wisp — which, if she had 
not kindled it and set it a-going, in the first place for his 
delusion, she had at least taken special care not to extin- 
guish — was leading him, each one of those days, and weeks, 
and months, still deeper into the slough, where she, even 
now, intended that, at no very distant day, she would leave 
him in his despair. 

At length, however, one moonlight night, when they sat 
under the trees as usual, — the Padre having early sought 
his couch on the plea of weariness, — Gatewood opened the 
subject so abruptly, and, from his manner of doing it, 
seemed so firmly resolved to be heard then and there, that 
she was in a measure obliged to allow him to proceed. 

“Senorita,” he began, “justice to myself, even if you 


208 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


will admit no other plea, absolutely demands that I should 
tell you before we separate to-night, of the feelings which I 
have cherished towards you from the moment of our first 
meeting, and of the hopes to which they have given birth. 
I have already attempted this more than once; but you 
have always evaded the matter. I beg of you, as you 
value my happiness, let there be an end of all this sus- 
pense, one way or the other. Let there be no more subter- 
fuge — if I may be allowed the expression — no more par- 
rying of my words, as though you thought them poisoned 
daggers aimed at your life. But I find I have already told 
you my secret, — if, indeed, it has been any secret to you 
from the first. Need I say more ? Alas ! I find that the full- 
est heart may be the least eloquent of its precious burden. 
Just when I hoped my passion would inspire me to plead 
my cause in befitting language, my tongue is well-nigh par- 
alyzed. But what matters it, Senorita ? You well know 
what my heart would say, though my lips refuse. 

Gatewood, considering how deeply he was smitten, got 
on with the first two or three sentences of his little petition 
quite as glibly as he could have expected. But, instead 
of improving as he warmed with the momentous theme, 
and pouring forth, at the last, an irresistible torrent of 
passion, that would, he hoped, bear down every obstacle, 
he hesitated — stammered — and, indeed, broke down so 
signally in the end, that he not only became painfully con- 
scious of failure, but fairly trembled with the intensity of 
his emotion — doubtless made the more intense by being 
smouldered within for want of the vent of expression. His 
fiery burst was much like that of the over-laden volcano, 
which, striving to give vent to the molten mass that burns 
and burdens it, chokes with very fulness, and sends nothing 
forth, but heaves and trembles with the workings of the 
pent-up lava. 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 209 


The lady addressed, however, — as was but too evident, 

— partook of his emotions to a very limited extent only. 

“ Captain,” she coolly replied, “ I will not affect igno- 
rance of what your manner, much more than your language, 
has told me, not only to-night, but for months. I do not 
pretend to judge how serious such matters may prove to 
your sex : it may be that you can throw them off lightly 
from your hearts, or they may be all in all to you. But I 
do know that it is a momentous thing for a woman to 
bestow her heart and her hand. You censure me for 
putting you off at various times without a hearing. I then 
knew full well that I could not return your love. Now, 
do you think it very cruel, that instead of telling you so — 
as I should have been compelled to do had I spoken then 

— I changed the subject again and again, that I might 
have longer time to consider?” 

“Then,” said the ardent suitor, — drawing near under 
the influence of the hope which he thought was implied in 
her words, and taking her hand gently in his own, — “ let 
me trust that you are ready now to decide what is so essen- 
tial to my happiness.” 

“But,” she replied, extricating her hand from his, 
“what, if I say that, if you insist on an answer now, it 
must still be adverse ? while if you allow me the opportu- 
nity of a longer acquaintance, it may be auspicious?” 

“ On such terms I am willing to postpone the matter still 
further,” replied Gatewood, fancying he perceived consid- 
erable encouragement in her words. 

“ But in the meantime,” he added, after a pause, “ if 
there is anything I can do, either to win your love or to 
prove still further my own, let me know, that I may be 
favored in the one case, or tested in the other.” 

Now, it chanced that the Senorita had resolved that ff a 
favorable opportunity should ever present, she would 
18 * 


210 MORE THAN SHE COULI) BEAR. 


broach the subject of his aiding that cause with which all 
her interests and all her thoughts were so closely identi- 
fied ; and she w^as just then planning the best mode of 
accomplishing it without seeming to rush abruptly into a 
matter, which, it was but too evident, was one of bargain 
and sale. She was glad, therefore, that his last remark 
offered her so good an opening. Nor is it by any means 
impossible that the Captain designed this remark as an 
introduction to what he himself had presently to say on 
that very subject. Or, on the other hand, he may only 
have thrown it out as a lure, to lead the lady first to intro- 
duce the topic. Be this as it may, she did not suffer the 
opportunity to go long unavailed of. 

“ Why, Captain, how much would you be willing to 
do ? ” she asked, carelessly. 

“ Anything, Senorita,” he replied, with no little earnest- 
ness : “ anything at all, that is possible, will I do, or at least 
try to do, to win you or to prove myself worthy of you. 
Hercules’ labors would scarcely be too much to undertake 
for such a meed, if it could not be gained with less.” 

“ Prove yourself worthy of me, indeed ! That, at least, 
no longer remains for you to do. No, indeed, — you have 
done that long since. God forbid that I should so far 
forget the claims of gratitude, as to put to such a test one 
who has already snatched me — at the fearful risk of his 
own life — and those as dear to me as myself, from so much 
suffering, and even from death. But as regards my lovCy 
there is only one way in which that can be won by mortal.” 

“And that is — ” 

Although Gatewood’s conjecture as to what she meant 
was quite correct, yet not wishing to incur the risk of a 
blunder on so vital a point, he broke off the sentence, de- 
signedly throwing the fragment into the interrogatory form 
by his mode of emphasizing it. 


MOEE THAN SHE COULD BEAE. 211 

“ Devotion to my country’s cause, to be sure,” replied 
Isabella. 

“Henceforth then,” exclaimed the Chief, with enthu- 
siasm, genuine or marvellously well assumed, “ I am your 
country’s champion.” 

“Yet do .not misapprehend me,” she rejoined instantly : 
“I don’t say that will certainly do it — but only that 
nothing else possibly can.” 

“I conceive that your terms are exceeding hard, Se- 
norita,” said the lover despondingly, “ if you mean that it 
is barely possible you may smile on me after all the sacri- 
fices I may make in the cause, and the many hardships I 
may endure — the many dangers I may encounter.” 

“ Nevertheless, I do mean,” replied the lady, who, now 
that her country was the theme, had lost the cool apathy 
with which she had discussed love, and was all aglow with 
patriotic fervor, “that no one who refuses to strike for 
Mexico — or, at least, for Texas — can by any possibility 
hope for such favor from me. On the other hand, I do 
not now see how I could find it in my heart to frown on 
the suit of one who should prove himself one of the chief 
heroes in establishing the freedom of ray native province. 
It would, of course, turn on the degree of love I should by 
that time bear him; and although I cannot be expected to 
decide prospectively how much that would be, yet I think 
I can venture to say, it must needs be great.” 

“ Then am I a champion of your cause from this time 
forth,” said the Chief with enthusiastic eagerness. 

“ On the other hand,” she went on, without seeming to 
heed the impulsive interruption, “ should we fail — should 
the darkness and blight of despotism settle again on my 
country, and on my beloved Texas, I shall seek the life- 
long seclusion of the convent.” 

“ It shall be no fault of mine,” said he, passionately, as 


212 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

soon as he had rallied from the momentary shock which 
this sudden announcement gave him, “if so much excel- 
lence is lost to the world.” 

It may be as well that the reader here be told, that 
both the parties to this interview had gone somewhat 
further than they intended; or, rather, that, under the 
sway of feelings, which had but a transient operation, they 
had gone further than subsequent cool reflection sanc- 
tioned. If the lady’s conduct, or her language, was shaped 
at all in this instance by the motive which, as w^e have 
already endeavored to explain, influenced her before, — 
namely, that she felt his companionship well-nigh indis- 
pensable to the beguilement of her lonely hours, — it must 
have been in an exceedingly slight degree. The true ex- 
planation of such encouragement as she now gave Gate- 
wood is to be found chiefly in the fact, that she chanced 
to be, at the time, in one of those despairing moods that 
occasionally came over her, — during which she abandoned 
all hope of ever again meeting with her lost lover, and was 
fain to act just as though she knew he was no longer in 
existence. 

At such times, her reflections were much in this strain ; 
“ I can never love as I once did. But if I am to give my 
hand to any, why not to one who will do as much for my 
poor country as he has already done for me and mine? 
His present manner of life, to be sure, is of a questionable 
order. On his former life, for aught I yet know to the con- 
trary, some stigma may rest ; I have not yet heard his 
story — not even his own version of it. Nor need I seek to 
know it : it is enough to know that he loves me with such 
true devotion that I shall be able not only to win him from 
the wild life he now leads, but to influence him so to live 
in the future, as to atone for any stain that may have 
marked his past career, and to be once more the ornament 
to society, that, I doubt not, he was in the by-gone time.” 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 213 


It is, however, not at all improbable that there lurked in 
the woof of all this tangled web of ratiocination — though 
she may not have been conscious of it — the policy so 
strenuously inculcated upon her by her uncle and ghostly 
counsellor; — which was, to all intents and purposes, nei- 
ther more nor less than the infamously notorious Jesuitical 
dogma, “ The end justifies the means,” — the end being, in 
the present instance, the independence of Mexico. To this 
may as well be added an end incidental to the main one, — 
though this part of the programme had been sedulously 
kept out of the Senorita’s sight, — the investiture, namely, 
of the counsellor aforesaid, with the dignity of an archbish- 
opric. This advice, I repeat, coming from the source it did, 
could not but have influenced the lady in some degree, 
however little she may have suspected it, or, if suspected, 
however loth she may have been to own it, even to herself. 
Nor is' it to be denied that her holy kinsman’s promise of 
absolution, should she be conscience-smitten for having 
shaped her conduct by policy rather than by truthfulness 
and candor, may have had its weight in the matter. 

No sooner had she lapsed, after their parting for the 
night, into her more common mood of thinking that her 
former lover still lived, and would, in due time, come, with 
the rest, to the rescue of her native land, than she sorely 
repented the extent to which her zeal had led her to com- 
mit herself to the Chief, — her regret for the hasty words 
going even to the length of weeping over them as faithless 
to her early plight. Inasmuch, however, as they had been 
spoken, she concluded her painful reverie by resolving not 
to recall them, but to let them stand just as they had been 
uttered, until ample time should have been allowed the 
really loved one to make his appearance upon the scene. 
To this determination she was the more easily reconciled 
from the fact that her promises to this last lover were only 


214 MOEE THAN SHE COUED BEAR. 


conditional, and might be retracted without any great 
stretch of conscience, should the other event — which she, 
one day, joyfully anticipated, and perhaps the very next, 
hopelessly despaired of — ever come about. 

Gatewood, also, found, on mature reflection, that he had 
promised more than he intended when he said, without due 
qualification, that he would champion the Senorita’s cause. 
The truth is, he had been so suddenly elevated by her last 
words, from the pit into which her first had sunk him, that, 
in the glow of reaction, he had closed a rash bargain. His 
only alternative, bethought, was to make better terms when 
the time should come — as come it must — that would en- 
able him, — not to sue feebly for them, as heretofore, — but 
to demand them in the proud right of might. 


CHAPTER XXH. 

I must bring you to our captain’s cave. 

' Two Gentlemen of Verona. 

These are my mates, that make their will their law, 

Have some unhappy passenger in chase. 

They love me well, yet I have much to do 
To keep them from uncivil outrages. 

Two Gentlemen of Verona. 

If he is not in love with some woman, there is no believing old signs. 

Much Ado About Nothing. 

H aving brought matters thus far with the Senorita, 
Gatewood thought it high time to give the camp-people 
an inkling of what was in the wind, so that, when the time 
should arrive to make their actual arrangements for the 
campaign, which must now be soon, if at all, his band 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 215 


should not be scandalized by dissensions, but that all who 
should prove irreconcilable to his sudden somersault, 
might leave the premises and bear with them all discord- 
ant elements. 

All this he could now essay with the better grace, inas- 
much as Magee had made good his promise, to influence 
the civil authorities to release the men whom he had 
arrested and turned over to their jurisdiction. These had 
reached camp several days before — Magee having taken 
precious good care to let it be known that their release had 
been effected through his instrumentality. 

One morning Gatewood summoned Wynne to his tent — 
an event, indeed, not so very unusual as to excite suspicion 
that anything extraordinary was going on or in contem- 
plation ; for that veteran was well known to be the Cap- 
tain’s right-hand man in all cases where an officer’s agency 
was not essential. After explaining to him his intentions, 
he desired him to make them known to all the men, in a 
gradual way, as though he had heard of them, not directly 
from his Chief, but by sheer accident. The exact mode of 
doing this, he did not prescribe, but left it entirely to the 
discretion of the veteran, on whose judgment, in such 
matters, he well knew, from past experience, he could im- 
plicitly rely. 

His instructions were confined to the substance of what 
he wished his men to know. Wynne was to inform them 
fully about the peculiar beauties and the attractiveness of 
the province of Texas, of which the Chief himself had only 
heard, but of which Wynne knew more, probably, than 
any other American within the limits of Neutralia — 
he having traversed, in his younger days, nearly every 
portion of it, lassoed wild horses on the prairies, and 
sojourned, at various times, in the renowned city of San 
Antonio de Bexar. He was to tell them, too, of the rich 


216 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


lands that were to fall to their share, should the expedition 
prove successful ; the mines they would come into posses- 
sion of ; and any other advantages which he thought the 
conquest and occupation of the country would give them — 
for that the projected invasion would end in conquest and 
occupation by the Anglo-Saxon portion of the little army, 
Gatewood made no doubt. 

Touching his real motive for reversing his determina- 
tion, previously promulgated among them — not to have 
anything to do with an expedition which the hated Magee 
should command — of course, he did not divulge this, even 
to the faithful agent he had chosen to negotiate betwixt 
him and his men ; though it is quite likely he thought that 
not only Wynne, but the other men as well, had already 
right suspicions concerning it. And here it is proper to 
remark, that, although the Chief, since he had come under 
the glamour of the Senorita’s eyes, had absented himself 
from camp much more than formerly, yet when there, no 
one could perceive that he was in the least changed. All 
signs (which they would have deemed unmanly) of the 
deep passion that had taken such complete possession of 
his breast, however marked they might have been a few 
moments before, had always vanished when he came into 
their presence ; and he seemed, to their critical eyes, the 
same ready, energetic, stern chieftain that he had ever 
heretofore proved himself. They were fain to believe that 
he was merely wantoning with this beautiful woman — the 
fame of her beauty had long since spread through the 
camp — and that the result could not but prove disastrous 
to her virtue. 

Could they have once seen him sink — as they would have 
deemed it — the warrior in the humble suitor ; could they 
have seen him unbend before her, — pay her respectful court, 
—hang on her words, — dim, or brighten, beneath her frown. 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 217 

or smile, — they would doubtless have thought him so sadly 
lapsed from his proud estate as to be no longer a fit chief- 
tain of the fierce spirits who now gloried in owning his 
supremacy, and were ever ready to do his behests. 

The reasons that he chose to assign for joining this 
expedition, which they all had so lately sworn, in their 
heart of hearts, to give the go-by, if no worse, may perhaps 
be best explained in his own words to Wynne. 

“Tell them,” said he, “that, as Magee has done all 
he could do to atone for the outrage he committed, there 
is no further use for enmity, — especially, since the longer 
it is kept up, the more it will work against their own in- 
terests. He now proposes to make still further amends, by 
leading them on to the attainment of all they can desire. 
If they refuse, they thereby reject the only way he has to 
prove to them that he regrets what he has done. And 
that he does regret it — sincerely, too, I have every reason 
to think — I have had from his own lips. As for any ven- 
geance they may cherish against him, now that he has 
returned within their reach, you can tell them that my 
word of honor, which I pledged him on condition that he 
would effect their release, shall forever be proof against 
that” 

“I’ll jist ride in to town,” thought Wynne, as he left 
Gatewood’s tent, “and when I come back. I’ll have lots o’ 
news to tell the boys ; and I can bring in, ’long with the 
rest, what the Cap’n jist now told me.” 

About sunset of tlie same day, Wynne returned from 
Natchitoches. When he neared camp, he had the good 
luck to find about twenty of the men assembled, watching 
the operation, which was being performed by two others, 
of roping a pair of stout cubs captured by them and just 
brought in, after being reduced to a state of orphanage, 
19 


218 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


and their happy homestead being otherwise desolated — all 
in that merciless fashion universal with frontierraen. 

Wynne was rejoiced that so good a chance presented to 
speed throughout the camp what news he had, without his 
appearing to be anxious that it should be made known. 
He had gathered enough real news to serve his purpose, 
without being driven to the questionable expedient of man- 
ufacturing the requisite quantity, or even of greatly col- 
oring its texture — neither of w^hich things he would, in 
all probability, have scrupled to do, had he thought his 
Chief’s interests called for it. 

As he now approached the group, there were peals of 
laughter going up from among them, at very short inter- 
vals, sometimes at the expense of the youthful captives — 
the Messrs. Bruin — though much oftener at the expense 
of the two men, who were vainly trying to lasso them, 
and were getting an occasional slap from a paw, which, 
though young, was by no means velvety, and which tore a 
hole ill the garments, or the skin, of the captors, according 
to their nearness w^hen the resenting blow was struck. 

“There comes Wynne,” said one of the group, who 
chanced to spy the veteran at a distance. This discovery 
closed the menagerie, so far as the audience was concerned, 
and secured the exhibitors from any further mortification 
of a laugh ; for all the spectators, as they invariably did 
when they knew he had been to town, turned their at- 
tention exclusively to Wynne, who, previous to setting 
out in the morning, had taken especial care to let it be 
known whither he was going. 

“What news, Wynne?” demanded the one who had 
first seen him, and who now took the lead, as they moved 
away a few steps to meet him. 

“News?” he echoed, as he rode up amongst them. 
“Why, town’s jist full o’ news to-day — fuller ’n I ever 
knowed it.” 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 219 

“ Well, give us a little.” 

Thar’s a young army jist got in from the States,” he 
replied, dismounting, and proceeding, with great delibera- 
tion, to unsaddle his horse. 

No one made any comment on this announcement — 
which, by the by, was no invention of Wynne’s, but only 
the simple truth. It was, however, easy to see that all 
looked somewhat startled. 

“ You need n’t, all o’ you, be sheered to death : they 
ain’t cornin’ after us Neutral-Grounders,” resumed Wynne, 
reading, at once, the prevailing apprehension, that the 
United States government had sent a force, as it had done 
several 'times before, to expel them from their fastnesses. 
“ They ’re after no sich small game as we folks.” 

‘‘It’s the force that’s to invade Texas, then? ” conjectured 
one, with the confident tone and air of having made a 
plausible guess. 

“ Yes.” 

Wynne said no more than the simple monosyllable, for 
the very good reason, that he wanted, first, to ascertain 
how these wild pulses beat with reference to such an 
expedition. 

“ I ’m glad of that,” said one. “ I hope Gatewood will 
join ’em, and take us with him.” 

“ So do I,” said two or three others. 

“ I’m d — d if I do then — not if that d — d Magee ’s to 
command,” said one of those whom that oflicer had caused 
to be whipped, and who had just been released from the 
civil clutches. 

“ I should reckon not,” said another. “You ’ll carry his 
mark to your grave. Hardy. I don’t see how any of us 
can forget that matter — so soon, too! It might just as 
well ha’ been me. If he ’d ha’ caught me, he ’d ha’ served 
me the same way — or you — or you — or you'' As he said 


220 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

this, he jerked his head excitedly in the direction of those 
immediately about him. 

“ Oh, nobody expects them to go that he treated that 
way,” said the first speaker. “ I ’m sure I would n’t, if he ’d 
ha’ whipped me. They can just stay here and suck their 
paws.” 

“ I think they ’re the very ones that ought to go,” said a 
great, ferocious-looking fellow, who had not before spoken. 
“I ’m one o’ them that he whipped — and all hell would n’t 
stop me from goin’.” 

“ Why, Crabtree,” exclaimed, in a very excited tone and 
manner, the one who had shared with him the scorching 
and flagellation, “ if you do, we ’ll brand you as a d — d 
traitor. You swore vengeance against Magee oftener ’n all 
the rest of us put together. You said, if you ever got a 
chance — ” 

“ And it ’s just to git a chance that I ’m goin’,” inter- 
rupted the other. “ If I don’t put a ball through him before 
the campaign ’s half over, it ’ll be because I ’ll have a 
chance to do still better.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Split his d — d weasand on the sly. And that I’ll 
do — so help me God ! So, you may put me down for that 
expedition, shore.” 

The speaker said no more. One might well think he 
had said enough ; but I should rather he had uttered a 
dozen such things of me, than have laughed at me that 
deadly laugh. It seemed like a continuation of his venge- 
ful threat — nay, it seemed like the veritable execution of 
it — causing a shudder to come over more than one of 
those who knew Crabtree well. 

“What are you going to do, Wynne?” asked one of 
those who had expressed themselves in favor of co-op- 
erating, in good faith, with the proposed movement. For 


MORE THAN SHE COUED BEAR. 221 


when anything novel or exciting was on foot, these wild 
fellows always wanted to know what ‘Uhe old boy,” as 
they sometimes called Wynne, was going to do — their 
course in the matter being mostly shaped by his. 

Wynne, during the whole of this running conversation, 
had assumed an air of the most supreme indifference, and, 
without appearing to listen to anything that was said, had 
heard every word. Thinking he had, by this time, caught, 
with tolerable accuracy, the key-note of the crowd around 
him, and that they were quite a fair specimen of Gate- 
wood’s entire band, he resolved that this was a good time 
for him to speak in the interest of the Captain. So, with- 
out directly answering the query propounded to him, as to 
what his own individual course would be, he went on to 
give more of the news he had heard, together with his own 
views of the matter under consideration, — well aware that 
his opinion and the course he should adopt, would have no 
little w’eight in determining others. 

“ They say in town, we ’re all expected to jine when the 
time comes to move. And, then, there ’s a rumor that the 
Cap’n ’s been spoke to about it, and said, as Texas is goin’ 
to be run over anyhow by them folks from the States, 
he did n’t see why his boys should n’t have a hand in it 
and git their share o’ the spiles, ’long with the rest. It’s 
my private opinion we ought to jine. Boys, I ’ve been all 
through Texas — and that’s more ’n any of you can say — 
and I jist tell you, God A’mighty never made sich another 
country.” 

He then went on to depict Texas, in his rough way, as 
an earthly Elysium. He represented the rolling prairies 
as always covered with flowers, and as there was plenty of 
timber along the water - courses, bees and honey were 
abundant ; the streams as well filled with the finest fish, 
and never getting muddy, since the rain ran altogether 
19 * 


222 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR 


through grass and flowers to reach them ; all kinds of game 
as abounding, from the stately buffalo and wild horse down, 
through a hundred intermediate sorts — many of which he 
specified — to the insignificant grouse and hare, which, he 
said, you might knock over either with a stick or a d — d 
shot-gun, whichever you chose — but, of the two, for his 
part, he should always prefer the stick. Then there was 
no end of the mines of gold and silver in the mountains ; 
and all to be done, to get their treasures, w^as to drive out 
the d — d Indians. He wound up his description by de- 
picting the women of San Antonio as something marvellous 
in the way of charms, and as being particularly partial to 
men of American blood. 

To such as have visited Texas, this rude outlaw’s pic- 
ture will hardly seem overdrawn. 

“Now, boys,” Wynne went on, “the question is just 
narrowed down to this : Shall we stay here in this d — d 
Neutral Ground, w^har we can’t see ten foot ahead of us — 
and then none the puttiest sights nuther — or go to lord it 
over sich as I have described ? Here we ’ve been squatted 
down in this miser’ble thicket, this ever so many years, 
ketchin’ sich little dribbles as a counterband trade mought 
happen to bring from Texas, — and now when thar ’s a clean 
chance to git the whole thing, Texas and all, some o’ you 
want to hold back, and look on, and growl, while them 
other fellows’ll take every d— d bit of it— trade and all.” 

With these indignant words, Wynne, without more ado, 
walked off to his tent and left the group — still divided in 
their opinions — to discuss the subject among themselves 
as long as they might choose. 

“ I b’lieve that Spanish girl ’s at the bottom o’ this whole 
d d business,” said one of that portion among them 
who were not very clear, in their perverted consciences, 
^bout the propriety of so readily forgiving Magee, 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 223 


How do you mean ? ” asked another. 

“ Why, I mean, she ’s got the Captain so bad, that she 
can do pretty much as she pleases with him — and, so she’s 
made him do this — don’t you see ? ” 

‘^Pooh! I’d just like to see the woman that could do 
anything with him when he ’s once made up his mind.” 

“ I should ha’ thought so, too, if I had n’t come on ’em 
once, unbeknowns. I tell you he wa’n’t the same Gate- 
wood then as he is here among us — not by a long one. 
I was in puppy-love with a girl myself oncet, but I wa’n’t 
quite as big a pup as you’d ha’ thought him, if you ’d only 
seen him watchin’ her, and not darin’ to put his hand on 
her. They did n’t see me ; so I stood and looked at ’em a 
right smart, while, and then left — my mind made up that 
Cap’n Gatewood was .done for. That ’s the secret, you may 
depend, and he ’ll marry her too — that ’s, if he can git 
her — which I’m in doubts about.” 

“ She git him, you mean, more like,” remarked another. 

“Well,” said one who had not yet spoken, “what does 
it matter if she does get him, so we get Texas ? I, for one, 
would be willing for such a swop ; ’specially, if there ’s a 
few more such pretty women there as she is.” 

With a few closing remarks, which seemed to taper off 
the debate, they gradually dispersed to their respective 
quarters, to digest these tidings, of so much moment to all 
Neutralian^. 

It was, however, very evident that Wynne had brought 
the most of them into such a plastic state, that, by means 
of one or two more little speeches, he would be able to 
knead them as so much dough, and to leaven, into the 
bargain, the whole lump to the Captain’s taste. 


224 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAK. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

Talk hot to me : my mind is heavy . — Merry Wives of Windsor. 

My counsel 

Must be even as swiftly follow’d as 

I mean to utter it, or both yourself and we 

Cry, lost, and so good-night. Winter’s Tale. 

For necessity of present life, 

I must show out a flag and sign of love, 

"Which is indeed but sign. Othello. 

TTIHEN the Padre returned from Natchitoches that 
VV evening — which he did about sunset — he searched 
in vain for his niece, in the house, and under the trees 
where he usually found her. At length, descrying her sit- 
ting on the shore of the lake, looking out on the beautiful 
expanse of water, which a light breeze was crisping into 
wavelets and sending them to ripple softly along the 
smooth, glistening beach at her feet, he hurried down the 
slope to, where she sat. 

The Senorita had felt more than usually lonely this 
evening. She had been thinking of the time — now prob- 
ably near at hand — when she would be left, for months, 
with no company except the old Mexican couple. How, 
without books, and confined within very narrow limits by 
the fear of venturing into the forest, could she possibly 
manage to while away so many idle hours ? 

“ I shall have nothing to do,” she said aloud, “ but to 
eat and sleep, like the wild animals around me. I shall be 
almost like one in solitary confinement in some prison- 
house.” 

Prison-house, indeed ! How could she call this a prison- 
house, when she recollected one to which this were au 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 225 

Eden? What a sad echo that one little gloomy word 
awakened in her breast ! Not such an echo as was ever 
around her here, — leaping forth like the wild deer, far 
along the green vistas of forest growth, till every trace 
died away in the free and still open distance. Ah ! no — 
but the dreary, dismal echo that quickens in the dungeon’s 
womb, and is stifled there, even while yet struggling to 
make its way into the outer world. 

It awakened thoughts of Queretaro — and such thoughts 
could not but be sad. It recalled all the suflerings of her 
lover, together with the perils she had voluntarily encoun- 
tered, and the sacrifices she had made, in his behalf. Oh, 
what would she not give for an opportunity to brave the 
same perils, and make the same sacrifices, or even greater, 
to serve him now ! What would she not give to know 
merely that he still lived, even though they should never 
— never meet again ! She felt that it would be somewhat 
comforting to know that he was in the same world with 
her, and not have to think him in that other unknown 
world, which must remain ever dark and forbidding until 
our time shall come to explore it in the disembodied spirit. 
“ It would be something,” she thought, “ to know that we 
breathe the same air, — wear the same flesh, frail though it 
be, — that we look out on the same sun, and moon, and 
starry skies, — and, above all, that he sometimes thinks of 
me, wherever he is.” 

“ And what of this other one — this ardent suitor ? who, 
I verily believe, loves me as his life. I cannot loye him 
in turn. And yet, if Ae, my long lost lover, comes not 
soon, I shall be fain to take the irrevocable step for my 
country’s sake.” 

The Senorita was relieved from the agony, now coming 
upon her, — of contemplating, in detail, a loveless wedded 
life, — by her uncle’s approach. 


22G 


MORE TUAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


“ Isabella,” said he, as he seated himself by her side, 
“ you look very lonely here.” 

“ Lonely as I am, uncle,” she replied, with a very 
dejected air, that could not have failed to move a more 
stoical heart than his, “ I fear I shall be much more so 
when you all leave.” 

“Tut! girl,” he said, with affected indifference, “you 
must not give way thus. You must be more of a heroine 
than that. Surely, for freedom’s sake, if for no other, you 
can bear it a little while.” 

“ Well, I suppose I can,” she replied, looking a trifle 
ashamed of her weakness. “ At least I will try.” 

“ But that will not do : you must bear it.” 

“AVell then, I will,” she said, resolutely. “And I am 
sorry that I betrayed any such unworthy shrinking from 
duty. Believe me, there shall be no more of it. What 
news do you bring, this evening ? ” 

“ A great deal. Magee has reached Natchitoches with 
a hundred and fifty men.” 

“ A hundred and fifty men, indeed ! A mere handful ! 
Is that all he could get ? I hope we shall have more than 
that, uncle.” 

“ I am sorry to say, there is very little prospect of many 
now. He could have got all we want: in fact, several 
other companies were ready to start, but news came, just 
then, that there was every probability of a war between 
the United States and England. Indeed, I believe, no one 
doubts- that hostilities will soon commence. Many, there- 
fore, changed their minds, and resolved to remain to fight 
for their own country.” 

“They surely cannot be blamed for that,” said the Seno- 
rita. “Still it grieves me that it is so. Have you any 
tidings of Bernardo and Juan ? ” 

“Yes — through Magee. He left them in New Orleans. 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 227 


They will be on in a few days — having stopped there only 
long enough to make certain purchases for the campaign. 
Perhaps the worst of the news is, that both the President 
of the United States and the Governor of Louisiana, in 
view of the war impending with Great Britain, have re- 
solved to adopt prompt and vigorous measures to stop our 
operations on this frontier.” 

“ That would, indeed, be unfortunate,” said Isabella. 
“But I suppose it is reasonable they should want these 
men for their own defence. Uncle, do you really think 
there will be only a hundred and fifty men from the 
States ? ” 

“ There are about fifty more,” replied the priest, “ who 
have engaged positively to come on in a few days. Two 
hundred will, I am confident, embrace all we can hope for 
from that source. So, you see, Isabella, how much depends 
on you.” 

This was the first time the Padre had made any allusion 
whatever, directly or indirectly, to her peculiar relations to 
Gatewood, since she had told him her sad story, and he 
had volunteered his advice on the subject. During the 
interval, however, he had been, without appearing to be so, 
closely and anxiously observant of their intercourse with 
each other, and, as the result of his surveillance, had the 
very best grounds for supposing that matters were going 
forward to his entire satisfaction. Hence, his silence on 
the subject, until now, when it admitted of no further delay. 

In answer to his remark, the Senorita did not say a 
word, but instantly withdrew her eyes from his and di- 
rected them upon the sands at her feet. 

“ The good of the cause, Isabella,” he resumed, seeing 
that she was not likely to speak, “ demands that I should 
know what you have really been able to efiect in enlisting 
in our behalf the brave Chief of the Neutral Ground.” 


228 MORE TKAN SHE COELH BEAR. 


She suddenly fixed on him her glorious eyes, slightly 
flashing with indignation. A sense of shame, or it may 
have been humiliation, flushed her cheek, while her beau- 
tiful lip — as if to give the lie to the shameful glov/ that 
mantled above — curled proudly as she replied : 

“ Uncle, that is a painful subject to me — exceedingly so. 
I had hoped that the first time you ever introduced it 
would also have been the last.’’ 

Saying this, she rose abruptly and was about turning to 
the house. But the Padre had yet more to say to her, 
and he was a man not easily balked of his purpose. 

As you please, Isabella,” he remarked calmly. “ But 
this much I have to add, be your pain, or mine, ever so 
great — that, whatever is to be done here for the cause, 
must be done forthwith, or may as well be abandoned alto- 
gether. If Gatewood shall not join his force with Magee’s 
W'ithin a very short time, our hopes on this frontier are 
ruined. The only plan that Magee can possibly adopt to 
clear himself of the United States territory and of liability 
to arrest, is, to enter Texas at once. This he cannot do 
with the few men he has, without risk of being cut oft' by 
the Gachupins before others can join him. If he does not 
enter that province within a few days — a fortnight, at 
most — the Governor of Louisiana has declared that the 
men shall be dispersed and the expedition broken up. 

“ But here is something more tangible,” he continued, 
drawing from his pocket a folded paper. “It may aid in 
determining your future course in this matter. This list 
comprises the name of every American whatsoever who has 
enlisted or promised to enlist under our banner. I have 
further only to observe, what you will readily find out 
by inspection — that the name of your lover is not of 
them.” 

Now, during this conversation, the Senorita had longed 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 229 


— not once only, but over and over again — to know 
whether or not her lover had come on with this little 
army. In fact, it was her very first thought on hearing 
the news of their arrival. It had then occurred to her to 
ask her uncle about it, but this, for two reasons, she de- 
cided not to do : First, because he had before endeavored 

— somewhat cruelly, she thought — to crush out what little 
hope she herself was striving with all her might to keep 
alive, as the one fond hope of her existence, and therefore 
she did not care to renew, now, the unpleasant theme; 
and, secondly, because she judged that he had most proba- 
bly heard nothing bearing upon the matter, and, even if 
he had, that he would be very apt to volunteer the telling 
of it before the colloquy should close. Then, almost im- 
mediately, there rose in her mind a doubt, whether her 
uncle — although prompt enough, she well knew, to impart 
unfavorable tidings on that subject — w'ould not be far 
more likely to suppress than communicate the fact of 
her lover’s arrival, should he have heard of it. Still she 
shrank from propounding the question directly, and at the 
moment when he produced the list from his pocket, she 
had determined upon the plan of dispatching Miguel to 
town, betimes, on the morrow, that he might make an 
eflfort to get the information she so much desired. 

All necessity for this, however, was done away with by the 
Padre’s last act of handing her the paper, and by the 
accompanying dreadful words, ^*His name is not of them.” 

Not washing — despite her indignation — to be guilty 
of the gross rudeness of leaving her uncle while he was yet 
talking to her, Isabella had paused to hear him to the end. 
When he had finished, she said nothing in reply; but as 
she put out her hand and took the proffered list, it trembled 
perceptibly in her grasp ; and as she turned to the house, 
a cold shudder ran through her frame. It seemed to her 
20 


230 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


that, at that moment, her one last and only hope took wing 
and left her, so far as love was concerned, in all the black- 
ness of despair. 

Gatewood, having waited long enough to make sure that 
the Padre had detailed to his niece all the late momentous 
news, (regarding which he also had, of course, kept him- 
self duly posted,) and that the two had exchanged such 
views on the subject as they well might prefer to do during 
his absence, resumed his visits. If he had before enter- 
tained moderate hopes of winning the Senorita’s hand on 
the ground of policy, he must have felt quite well assured 
of it now, when it had become plain that policy absolutely 
demanded her assent, the only alternative being the utter 
breaking down of the patriot cause in this quarter. The 
effect of the threatened war in the United States, in limit- 
ing the volunteers to the pitiful number of two hundred, 
when at least a thousand were looked for, rendered indis- 
pensable his assistance, which had, a few months before, 
under better auspices, been regarded not by any means 
essentia], but only highly desirable in order to secure the 
success of the projected movement beyond all manner of 
doubt, and with as little loss of life as possible. He was 
resolved, however, if it could be done, to win her pledge 
of marriage, without any allusion to his services, either 
past or to come. It must be, he thought, already but too 
evident to her proud spirit, whenever she was led to dwell 
on the painful theme, that she was simply selling herself 
for a price — to benefit her country, to be sure, but it was 
none the less, for that, a sale. So, the less said about it 
the better. 

It was with no slight degree of satisfaction, that, on the 
occasion of renewing his intercourse with the lady, after an 
absence of several days, he was able to discover in her 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 231 


manner towards him certain little signs, which bespoke his 
final triumph ; and it was still more gratifying to him to 
find that these trivial indications increased every day as 
the time drew near when they were to part. Before, she 
■would only sit with him beneath the trees, or, at most, 
stroll within full sight of the house, where they 'W'ere liable 
to be seen and heard at almost any moment by the two 
Mexican servants. Now, however, she acceded to his re- 
quest to walk with him into the surrounding woods. At 
first, these walks were very limited ; but they were gradu- 
ally extended, until at length the wanderers began to 
gather flowers wherever these could be found, without much 
note of either bearing or distance. At other times, they 
would ensconce themselves within some arbor which nature 
had fantastically fashioned out of her wild vines and 
creepers, — and on which the eye of mortal had probably 
never before rested, — where they would converse about 
that world from whose communion an untoward destiny 
had so eflTectually shut them out. By way of varying all 
this ere it should cloy, they sometimes took long rides to- 
gether on horseback, — now along the main road, — now up 
and down the wild bridle-paths, where they often met some 
of those grim denizens of Neutralia whom it had become 
her main object to win, through their Chief, for the main- 
tenance of the cause she had espoused. 

At length, one day, he prevailed on her to go with him 
on the lake. This became henceforward their favorite di- 
version, — the rides and strolls by land being now seldom 
resorted to, — for the water has charms above everything 
else, as all who have tried it must know. The little boat 
w^as a beautiful one, and Gatewood managed it most deftly. 
Sometimes the Senorita would go with him when he went 
to catch a mess of fish — as he did nearly every day. At 
other times they would visit the cluster of little wooded 


232 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


islands which lay out a cable’s length or so from the shore, 
and gliding leisurely from one to the other, tarry a, few 
moments under the shadow of each, to inspect and ad- 
mire its peculiar beauties, then skim away to some distant 
point of land whose attractions chanced to strike their fancy. 
Thence coasting slowly along, they would comment in de- 
tail on the lovely surroundings — the blending beauties of 
the wood and water below, and the sky, with its ever-shift- 
ing clouds, above them. * 

Fitting scenes these, the reader may think, to inspire 
with love, and tempting environments amid which to make 
it known, — yet not one word of love had thus far been 
spoken. 

At last, however, while gliding, on one occasion, thus 
listlessly along, following the fantastic indentations of the 
leafy fringe that encircled the lake, Gatewood suddenly 
directed the boat shoreward, adjusted the oars in the bot- 
tom, and, pushing aside the drooping boughs of the cy- 
press-trees that dipped gracefully in the water, the dainty 
little craft, under the impulse she had received, was beached 
on the golden sands. 

Whether the Chief did this deliberately, with an eye to 
what was so soon to follow, I know not. Be that as it 
may, however, thus much is certain : scarcely had the keel 
scraped upon the sands, when he took her hand in his — 
gently — ever so gently — as though giving her time to con- 
sider whether she would allow him such a priceless privi- 
lege. And during that brief interval, she did consider : 
asking herself, “ If I am to marry this man, in heaven’s 
name, why should I shrink from his touch ? ” The conse- 
quence was, the hand was not withdrawn — but her eyes 
were cast down — her cheek owned the contact with a 
faint blush — her breathing was slightly quickened. 

Where passion was concerned, Gatewood was not the 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 233 


man to do things by halves; so that, scarcely a moment 
more had passed, before she was folded in his embrace, — 
lying pliant enough against his broad breast, that throbbed 
wildly now — almost madly, indeed — while, as may well 
be imagined, his eager lips were not idle with such a deli- 
cious treat before them. He at last held in his arms the 
woman whom he had held so long in his heart. 

Before they left that spot the Senorita had pledged her- 
self to marry him, at San Antonio, as soon as Texas, her 
native province, should be free by his aid. 

Ah, how blind we are, at times, to all the eloquent em- 
blems which kind Nature spreads out so profusely about 
us, that we may read in them our fate, if we only will! 
These two saw not that heaven’s smile upon their plight 
was quite shut out by the gloomy canopy of cypress above 
their devoted heads. 

20 * 


234 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

Now will I lead you to the house, and show you 
* The lass I spoke of. AlVs Well That Ends Well. 

What should it be that he respects in her 
But I can make respective in myself, 

If this fond love were not a blinded god ? 

Two Gentlemen of Verona, 

Claudio. — Nay, but I know one who loves him. 

Eon Pedro. — I warrant, one that knows him not. 

Claudio. — Yes, and his ill conditions, and in despite of all, dies 
for him. 

Eon Pedro. — She shall be buried with her face upwards. 

Much Ado About Nothing. 

Show the inside of your purse to the outside of his hand, and so no 
more ado. WintePs Tale. 

G atewood having now fully decided to join Magee 
with all his available force — only about a half-dozen, 
in the end, refusing to serve, on any condition whatsoever, 
under a commander who had once put them to the tor- 
ture — sought out that officer in order to learn his plan 
of the campaign. 

On consultation, it was decided that, as Gatewood was 
ready to start, he should cross the Sabine without delay, 
and, pushing on to Nacogdoches, take that place at once — 
there being great danger that, unless they were thus prompt 
and energetic, the Spanish garrison there might hear of the 
contemplated movement, and fortify the town to such an 
extent that many lives would have to be sacrificed in its 
capture. 

The evening before the Neutralians broke camp, Da- 
vies — the man whose wife, it will be recollected, waited on 
Filly at Camp Wildwood — paid his aged mother a fare- 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 235 

well visit before departing on the campaign. He spent 
the night at the old lady’s house, leaving, however, early 
the next morning — so that the girl did not see him, ex- 
cept for a few moments. 

Filly, said Mrs. Davies, as the girl, with a counte- 
nance which was now habitually sad, entered the little room 
where the ancient dame was spinning, “as you and Cap- 
tain Gatewood were always great friends, I ’ll tell you some 
news that Will gave me about him.” 

“Oh, don’t tell me, Mrs. Davies — please! I know 
what it is: it’s something about that horrid war.” And 
two big tears stood in the poor girl’s eyes. 

“ Oh, no, it is n’t, honey ; it ’s good news — it ’ll cheer 
you up,” said the old lady, smiling. 

“ What is it, then ? Good news is so scarce nowadays.” 

“ The Captain ’s going to marry the rich and beautiful 
Senorita that lives in his house by the lake.” 

Now, Mrs. Davies had never once thought of such a 
thing as Filly’s being in love with Gatewood. In truth, 
she had always supposed they stood much in the same rela- 
tion to each other as father and daughter — though she 
well knew that they were not father and daughter. Great 
WAS her astonishment, therefore, when the girl, on hearing 
this announcement, gave vent to a flood of tears and 
rushed away to her room. Even with this impulsive 
burst of feeling to assist in the discovery of the tender 
secret that lay like a hidden jewel at the maiden’s heart, 
the old lady still failed even so much as to suspect such a 
state of affairs — attributing the girl’s emotion to a sudden 
fear on her part, that, if her protector should indeed 
marry, he would have no more favors and caresses to lavish 
on his little pet : another would get them all. 

Mrs. Davies, being a kind-hearted woman, was much 
moved by the girl’s exhibition of grief, and in a few' min- 


236 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


utes followed her to her room, with the hope of contrib- 
uting in some way to her relief. 

“ Don’t take on so, Filly,” she said, softly, as she entered 
and found her lying prone on the bed. “ I ’m sure I 
did n’t mean to make you cry: there’s no need of all these 
tears, if you ’ll only look at the thing in the right way. 
Why, Filly, I’ve no doubt Captain Gatewood would like 
to have you live with them in the Senorita’s fine house in 
San Antonio ; and I ’m sure, too, he ’ll treat you as he has 
always done. And they say she is a splendid lady, and 
there’s not a bit of doubt but she’d like to have your 
company when the Captain ’s away from home — and while 
he ’s there, too, for that matter. Now, child — ” 

“ Oh, Mrs. Davies, do please let me be, and leave me to 
myself!” exclaimed the girl, breaking out into a fresh tor- 
rent of tears, and burying her face deep in the pillow, wholly 
overcome by agony, as each of these words, intended in all 
kindness, pierced her very heart like a dagger. “Oh, 
please, don’t say any more about it I I want to go to sleep 
— if you ’ll only let me.” 

Mrs. Davies was not slow to adopt the only alternative 
left her. She stole from the apartment, closing the door 
as gently behind her as though already afraid of disturbing 
the girl’s slumbers. 

Ah, it was many a long and weary hour before sleep 
came to relieve those aching eyeballs and soothe that 
throbbing heart ! 

The first thing Filly thought of, on awaking, was a cer- 
tain resolution she had formed after Mrs. Davies left her, 
and which, now, on conning it over a second time, she 
determined to carry out without delay — since, if postponed, 
it might be too late. 

Before getting to sleep she had gone over, mentally, her 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 237 . 

last interview with Gatewood. This she could the more 
easily do, as she had recalled it a full hundred times since. 
The latter part of it, indeed, — in which he gave her to 
understand that he would marry her on his return, — had 
been almost constantly on her mind since she came to the 
town: had been, in fact, the one sole thing that made her 
separation from him at all endurable. 

Filly’s beauty had been much admired by the youth of 
the town, as well as by the younger officers of the garrison ; 
and she would doubtless have been quite a belle, had her 
ambition run in that very questionable line. So far, how- 
ever, from going into society, or mixing at all with the gay 
little parties of the place, she mostly confined herself to 
Mrs. Davies’s contracted premises, and preferred to remain 
unseen by her admirers, except such transient glimpses as 
they could catch of her when they chanced to meet her 
tripping gracefully along the street, or a little distance into 
the country, on her daily walk of mere recreation. When 
any one called at the old lady’s. Filly kept close to her 
own room, where she spent her time partly in reading 
such newspapers or books as she could get access to 
through Mrs. Davies’s intercourse with the citizens, but 
chiefly in musing of Gatewood, and in speculating what 
their future life would be when he should return — if, 
indeed, he should ever return — from this miserable war. 
The possibility of his being killed hung like a shadow over 
her and kept her spirits constantly at a low ebb. Hence, 
she invariably sent her “ excuses ” to such of her hostess’s 
visitors of both sexes as expressed a desire to make the 
acquaintance of the young forest beauty. 

Leading the secluded life she now did, she might almost 
as well have remained in the woods, so far as regards any 
knowledge she gained here of the world and its ways. 
Lest the assertion that she was happy, under these trying 


238 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


circumstances, should seem rather incredible, I shall only 
venture to say that she was at least contented. But the 
preservation of her feelings even in this comparatively 
negative state of happiness was wholly dependent on hope. 
When that key-stone was struck from the rainbow arch 
which her busy fancy had been so long building up, and 
which love had so fondly tinted with his own peculiar 
hues, the whole illusive fabric fell and vanished at once 
from view, leaving her only the menacing cloud against 
which it had been so beautifully but treacherously set. 

The hopeful promise which Gatewood had made to her 
at that last meeting, — ‘’When I come back I will make 
you happy,” — had been ever in her thoughts. Her im- 
pulsive tongue often repeated it in the solitude of her 
chamber, and her innermost heart-cell echoed back, each 
time, its glad music. But these fond words now suddenly 
gave place to those later ones, which, though far too 
dreadful for her tongue to utter, constantly rang through 
her heart, not in music’s tones, indeed, but like voices in a 
vault, — “When he comes back he will marry another.” 

On second thought, she could not quite believe the dis- 
astrous news — though that there was far too much founda- 
tion for it, she did not doubt. Her only remaining hope 
was the seemingly forlorn one of proving it false — and to 
prove it so, she resolved to spare no effort. 

“ I will go to the lady herself,” she thought ; “ and if I 
can find out in no other way, I will just ask her downright 
whether this is so. If she will not tell me, why, then, I’ll 
demand it as the right of one he had long ago promised to 
make his wife. That, I rather think, will bring the proud 
lady (iown : that will shame her : that will bring her to 
terms — if anything will. They say she ’s so grand, and 
rich, and all that — and I’ve no doubt they might call 
her stuck up, too, without straying very far from the truth. 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 239 

But I ’m not at all afraid of her great ladyship ; and if I 
don’t humble her it will be strange, indeed. To be sure, I 
should n’t like to undertake such a thing, here in town, 
where people have grades to society, just as they have 
stories to their houses, and steps to go up — queer ones, 
too, sometimes, it seems to me. But out in the wild woods 
yonder, where all are on the tent-floor level, with no upper 
story to mount to, I ’m not a bit afraid she ’ll get the better 
of me — with such a good cause as I have, too. 

“Let me see: how shall I go about it? Let Mrs. Da- 
vies know where I’m going? No, indeed! that would 
never do. I’ll just slip off* from her: I needn’t be gone 
long : I think it ’s only about fifteen miles. I can walk 
there to-day, if I take the whole day for it — stay all 
night — and then come back to-morrow. I reckon the 
great lady ’s hardly so proud she won’t let me stay all 
night in her house. Her house, indeed ! It ’s my house : 
it was built and furnished on purpose for me. Yes — 
she ’s living in my -house, and I ’m going to tell her so, too. 
I wonder how her ladyship, with all her money, and finery, 
and jewels, and all, will like to hear that piece of news? 
for I ’ve no doubt it will be^ news to her. He never told 
her that — never in the world, for all the long rambles and 
talks they must have had together around that beautiful 
lake. Oh, I do wish he had told her 1 ” 

This musing over what was now, and its contrast with 
what might have been, brought the poor girl back again 
to her tears. She soon rallied, however ; and, long before 
the middle of the day, was oflf on her venturesome journey. 
Taking the main road leading directly w'est, she got along 
very well the first two or three miles. Her life, as far 
back as she could remember, had been so wild, and not 
seldom beset with perils, that she now took but little fore- 
thought of any dangers she might encounter, — though, 


240 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


once fairly on her way, she found herself wishing, with all 
her heart, for Grim — as much perhaps for his agreeable 
company’s sake as for his protectorship. She had been so 
long accustomed, while in the woods, to the society of this 
faithful friend, that now, when she had again entered them, 
she could not but think his absence from her side quite 
unnatural, to say the least. 

She had gone probably not more than fourth the dis- 
tance, when she began to grow quite weary. She now re- 
flected, for the first time, as she sat down on a log by the 
roadside to rest, that her comparatively inactive life in the 
town, for several months, had unfitted her for undergoing 
the great amount of exertion to which she had inured 
herself when in camp, by long and frequent strolls through 
the forest. After she had jogged along about a mile fur- 
ther, she began to despair of carrying out her project, and 
was beginning to think seriously of returning. Of course, 
she did not know exactly how far she had already come, 
but, like all persons who have lived much in the woods, 
she had a tolerably correct idea of both time and distance. 
As she sat on her second resting-log, she reasoned within 
herself somewhat after this fashion : 

“I’m now about one-third the way to the lake. It 
will be impossible to make the other ten miles — at least 
without a night’s rest. But there’s no house on the way, 
and if I attempt to spend the night in the woods, a pack 
of wolves may make their supper on me. No — it’s very 
plain I shall have to return to town. It ’s not more than 
about five miles. I ’ll manage to get to the lake some 
other time, and some better way.” 

She accordingly started on her way back. She had 
gone only some two or three hundred steps, however, when 
she met — mounted, each, on a mule — two Mexicans, one 
of them a very old man, the other, to judge from a strong 
resemblance in feature, most probably his son. 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 241 

Filly, though she had by no means a thorough know- 
ledge of Spanish, could speak it well enough, she thought, 
to converse with these men — by the aid of a few natural 
signs — to the limited extent of her present necessities. 

“Will you take me, behind you, to the by-path that 
leads to the lake ? ” she asked of the old man. In order 
to supply her linguistic deficiencies — of which she was 
fully aware — she pointed, as she said this, first, to herself, 
then to the croup of the old man’s mule, and lastly in the 
direction she wished to go. 

Both the men had reined in as soon as she began to 
speak. 

“ No, Senorita,” replied the old man, with surly tone 
and manner, and fram the expression of his face, not a 
little astonished withal that a young girl should be found 
in such a wild, out-of-the-way place without a protector. 

“ But I must go,” insisted Filly. “ I undertook to walk 
from Natchitoches to the lake, but found I could n’t get 
all the way to-night, — and so, I just now turned back. 

“ I must go,” she repeated, when she saw no sign of the 
Mexican yielding. 

“ No, Senorita,” said the man again, at the vsame time 
digging his ponderous spurs into the mule’s sides and spurt- 
ing off in a jog-trot — his companion following. 

It is quite likely the man did not comi^rehend a word 
our heroine said — beyond the first request for transporta- 
tion. But even had he comprehended her throughout, the 
result would no doubt have been the same. It was enough 
for this grizzled brute to kmxw that she wanted to ride 
behind him, — an arrangement which he thought could 
benefit no one but herself, — and thus knowing and think- 
ing, he spurred off in order to get at once beyond the reach 
of her importunities. It soon became evident, however, 
21 


242 MORE THAN SHE COHLH BEAR. 


that somebody had blundered — the girl’s chance for a ride 
was, after all, by no means so desperate as he would have 
her think, for she had in her possession a talisman of which 
he little dreamed. 

“ I’ll give you this, if you’ll only take me,” she cried, 
trotting up alongside the mule, despite her weariness, and 
holding aloft — by its extreme outer edge, between her 
forefinger and thumb, so as to display it to the greatest 
advantage — a new, glittering silver dollar, which she had 
that moment drawn from her pocket. 

Gatewood, on parting with her, had given her more 
money than she well knew what to do with, and- she 
usually kept a few loose dollars about her person, — more 
because they were his gift, than for any use she thought 
they might ever be to her. 

That was the spell required! That little silver rim 
formed the magic circle beyond which the sordid Mexican 
found himself utterly powerless to move. There was an 
instant truce to spurs. The slackened rein was tightened, 
with a sudden snap against the animal’s neck, and was 
then so lustily drawn on, that its integrity was for a while 
seriously endangered. 

The Mexican — become now all politeness — drew his 
blanket from under him and spread it out behind the 
saddle, and the girl, having transferred the glittering coin 
to his horny hand, was, with a little assistance from him, 
soon in the seat prepared for her accommodation — and 
they started off. 

“Magic dollar!” thought Filly, “that can so soon hu- 
manize a heartless brute.” 

Such unflattering thoughts, however, she of course kept 
to herself. 

' The sun was yet several hours high when they reached 
the path which diverged to the lake. Filly dismounted, 


MORE THAN. SHE COULD REAR. 243 

and lost no time in making her way thitherward through 
the woods by the same route along which she had once 
before travelled so happily with Gatewood. And now, 
when she had come almost within sight of the spot she had 
so eagerly sought, her heart began to fail her. It may 
have been that the excessive fatigue she had undergone 
had somewhat unnerved her, — or it may have been on the 
principle, that what often seems to us quite insignificant at 
a good, safe distance, grows to be decidedly formidable as 
the critical spot or the critical period is approached. As 
an apt illustration of this — so far, at least, as a revulsion 
of our mere physical feeling is concerned — a visit to the 
dentist may occur to some of my odontalgic readers. 

“ I can’t go right up to the lady,” she began to think, 
‘‘and ask her at once about this thing — as I thought I 
could. Why, it would be real rude. Besides, they sav 
she’s such a nice person, and I don’t want to hurt any 
nice person’s feelings — nice persons are scarce. Then, she 
knows nothing at all about what Senor promised me. How 
should she know it ? Of course he would n’t tell her. I 
dare say the lady never heard of poor little me. How, 
then, is she to blame, I ’d just like to know? Not at all, 
that I can see. Strange, this didn’t occur to me before. 
What in the name of sense could I have been thinking 
about all this time? Here I’ve come this whole distance 
— stole off from Mrs. Davies, too — and after all, don’t 
know what to do. But I must do something : I ’m neayly 
there now. I ’ll sit down on this log and think about it.” 

' With this, she seated herself. 

“ Oh yes, I know what to do now,” she said aloud, after 
a little while. “I’ll tell the lady I started from Natchi- 
toches, with some other persons, to go over to Nacogdoches. 
To be sure, that’s not quite true; but if I were to tell her 
I started out on such.a trip hy myself, she would hardly be- 


244 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


lieve me : why, I reckon it ’s a hundred miles to Nacog- 
doches — on foot, too. And if I tell her I started to come 
to the lake, I should have to tell her the whole story as it 
really is; for, except that, what business have I got coming 
to the lake at all? Well, then, I ’ll tell her I started for 
Nacogdoches, and got separated from the rest of the party. 
And did n’t I? I ’m sure I got separated from those mean, 
good-for-nothing Mexicans — and was glad enough of it, 
too — for they ’re nasty folks : but that don’t make it any 
the less true. Well, then, I got separated from them, just 
where the path leading to the lake leaves the great road ; 
and, having heard there was a house at the lake — and ^ 
I’m sure I’ve heard t/iat many a time — I made my 


way — 


CHAPTER XXV. 


The fated beasts of nature’s lower strain 
Have each their separate task. Old Play. 


Do not you fear : 


I will stand ’twixt you and danger. — WintePs Tale. 

ILLY left the sentence unfinished, as well she might : 



X for she had caught what was, in a wood like that, and 
to *n unprotected girl, a truly ominous sound. It came 
from the direction in which she herself had just come. It 
was like the rushing of some huge beast, or beasts, through 
the dense undergrowth. She could distinctly hear the 
heavy feet come down against the ground at every leap ; 
could hear the noise of the dry leaves below, and the quick 
rustle of the green branches suddenly pushed aside, above 
and around — sounds, all of which, as they increased in 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 245 

loudness at each repetition of them, told her practised ear 
that some ferocious beast, or perhaps a whole herd of 
hungry wolves, were on her track. 

Whatever it might be, it was not yet in sight, for she 
cast a hurried look in that direction and saw nothing; yet 
she could hear it more plainly than before, bursting 
through the thicket near at hand. For once, she was 
frightened almost to death. What would she not have 
given, at that moment, if the faithful Grim could but have 
been with her, to interpose his terrible, burly front betwixt 
her and this sudden peril. 

She knew it was useless to run. She thought of 
climbing a tree; but, looking quickly around, saw none 
she could hope to climb, even had the tremor of her 
limbs admitted of a feat to which they were wholly unac- 
customed. She did not faint: most probably was not one 
of the fainting kind ; for had she been, here was surely suffi- 
cient cause for it. She had never seen any one go off in 
that interesting way. In fact, all she knew about the 
swooning process she had learned from novels, and in these 
the cause assigned was usually so wholly inadequate to pro- 
duce what she supposed was a sort of temporary death, 
that the entire thing, from beginning to end, remained a 
mystery to her. She only wished she could faint — and 
so be snatched, by this transient suspension of life, from 
witnessing, or, rather, feeling, the horrible tragedy now 
so plainly imminent : and, if it must be enacted — let her 
wake no more. The poor girl, incredible as it may seem, 
actually made a sort of effort at a swoon ; but was by no 
means so successful as some of those daughters of luxury 
and fashion who know, to a hair, how to do the thing, no 
less than when. The consequence was, she held on to her 
senses and was vividly conscious, to the last, of everything 
going on around her, 

21 * 


246 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAE. 

Casting one more look in the direction of the danger, 
she caught a partial glimpse of the side of a great black 
beast, rushing athwart an opening in the thicket. 

“It’s a bear!” she exclaimed. “Oh! to be eaten up by 
a bear !” and sinking to the ground, she buried her face in 
her hands and in the dead leaves, and awaited her dread- 
ful doom. 

From this time, she saw nothing, for she did not once 
look up. She, however, heard every bound the animal 
made in its swift career. Nearer — nearer — nearer it 
came. That last leap could be only a few feet from her: 
yet so quick is thought under such appalling circum- 
stances, she had time to think that, at the next instant, 
she would fee! its merciless fangs crunching through her 
frame. Much to her astonishment, however, and no less 
to her temporary relief, she felt, instead, only a warm breath 
panted forth into her face. That it could not be wolves, 
she had already decided, from the entire absence of the 
hideous noises always made by those cowardly animals 
when they draw very near their prey. 

The ferocious beast — now snulRng around her, as a pre- 
liminary to gorging himself on her dainty limbs, as a child 
retains, for a little while, a tidbit for its very deliciousness 
— could, she thought, be no other than a remorseless bear. 
She came to this conclusion from the fact of having often 
read of this animal — when not urged on by keen hunger 
to destroy his prey instantly — being sometimes induced to 
forego his destructive instinct by the feigning of death on 
the part of his intended victim, which mistaking for real 
death, he would be content to pass on his way with blood- 
less tooth and claw. And now, as she recalled this strata- 
gem, she concluded to adopt it herself, as her only remain- 
ing hope, desperate though it seemed. Once resolved on 
this plan, it may readily be believed that she exerted 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 247 


herself to don the disguise of the King of Terrors, just in 
the proportion in which she dreaded the real king himself. 
Indeed, she did this so royally well — lay so very still, and 
breathed so very little, and so softly — slowly — gently — 
when she breathed at all, that scarcely could old -^scula- 
pius himself — without placing his finger on her pulse — 
have pronounced whether or not the vital spark had still 
its home in the beautiful flesh before him. Much less, 
therefore, could Bruin; for, although he might have quite 
as much brain and quite as refined manners as some of the 
lineal descendants of the venerable old demi-god, he could 
not be supposed to possess enough of the tactus eruditus to 
detect an arterial pulsation. 

She lay in this dreadful way — oh ! it seemed to her for 
hours, though it was probably only for minutes. At any 
rate, she lay so long that she thought she must soon die 
outright of the terrible suspense, if something could not be 
done. But, then, in the name^ of heaven, what could be 
done? Why did the pitiless brute gloat so long in fond 
anticipation over the precious morsels he was to tear from 
her slender bones? Why did he not leave her, or — eat her 
up at once and have done with it ? Could it be possible 
that, not being very hungry just now, he was waiting there 
for the return of his voracious appetite? Yes — .that was 
it! for he had actually lain down near her: she heard 
him, just then, throw himself on the ground close at hand. 
He was waiting — yes, deliberately waiting for a degree 
of hunger that would enable him to take the whole of her 
into his capacious maw, and leave not even a trace to tell of 
her fate. And he might wait thus for hours ! 

She now — since she could endure no longer this killing 
state of things — ventured to open that eye which was half 
buried in the leaves : she felt that she could not, for the 
world, have opened the other eye. What, look directly 


248 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


into the glaring orbs of the savage monster before her? 
So she opened, by very slow degrees, the one that was half 
hid in the leaves — a little — ever so little — at first — 
then wider — wider still — until, at last, it was staring at 
full width. But there was nothing within its sweep more 
formidable-looking than the luxuriant growth of the forest, 
which only waved in the gentle breeze, and seemed to tell 
mockingly of peace and safety around, where terror al- 
ready stalked and destruction was soon to be let loose. 

The range of that eye being very limited, she now 
thought she would venture — in fact, must venture — ■ 
to open the other, which would necessarily embrace the 
terrible object of her dread. The very first glimpse 
through the half separated lashes fully confirmed her fears 
of the hopelessness of her situation. She had only time 
to see that a great, black, hairy mass lay there almost 
touching her, when her eye closed instantly, and almost of 
itself, as though with an instinctive shrinking from the 
horrible object. Several minutes passed in this way. At 
length, she heard the animal stir slightly among the dead 
leaves. The merest chink was again ventured in the eye ; 
and this time the poor girl descried, standing directly over 
her, — not the ferocious foe she had expected, — but the 
very best friend, peradventure, that she had in all the wide 
world. This, of course, could be no other than the ever 
mysterious, silent, honest Grim. 

Now it is but fair to say, had the girl been better ac- 
quainted with Bruin, she might have known, that, although 
he does occasionally indulge those carnivorous propensities 
with which Nature has feebly endowed him, he vastly pre- 
fers, as a. general thing, fruits, plants, and above all, 
honey — when it can be had without too great sacrifice of 
his feelings : moreover, that the stories of his standing so 
long over his victims, — like some grim detective bent on 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 249 


finding out whether they are counterfeiting, — though 
they may do well enough to place in the Little Red-Rid- 
inghood Series, to frighten children with, are, neverthe- 
less, the merest fudge. The truth is, although the girl’s 
surroundings had afforded her many facilities to do so, she 
had never availed herself of them to learn much about the 
habits of wild animals — choosing rather to glean her in- 
formation about them from books written by persons who 
actually know little or nothing of what they presume to 
teach others. The inevitable result was, she remained in 
lamentable ignorance touching many points of Natural 
History. 

‘‘Oh, what a relief!” thought Filly, “to be snatched 
from the very jaws of death — even from the imaginary jaws 
of such a horrible death — and suddenly delivered over 
to the caresses of this ever-faithful brute 1 ” 

She could not contain herself. Prostrated though she 
had just been by the effects of an extreme terror, she now 
sprang up, and rushing upon the dog, threw her arms 
around his great brawny neck and hugged him until he 
had to struggle hard to get his breath. She would have 
been glad enough to see him, even under circumstances 
far less trying ; but the sudden* and complete reaction 
of feeling, caused by her emerging from death into life, 
as it were, well-nigh frenzied her, for the time, with excess 
joy. 

As for the dog, so long as his mistress lay in such good 
counterfeit of death, he was sorely puzzled and much ex- 
ercised to know whether or not all was right with her — 
fearing, probably, that some accident might have befallen 
her to make her lie so still. He, therefore, since he could 
do no better, had taken his station by her side, and, without 
once withdrawing his eye from her, had watched anxiously 
for the least movement she might make, and pricking up 


250 


MOEE THAN SHE COULD BEAD. 


his ears, and, ever and anon casting his head askance, 
listened as tenderly as a mother over her expiring babe, 
hoping to catch the slightest sound that might tell of yet 
lingering life. 

No sooner, however, did she start up, than his joy knew 
no bounds. To be sure, he waited, with all due courtesy, 
to receive her first embrace ; but just as soon thereafter as 
he could extricate himself from her grasp without undue 
rudeness, and had sufficiently recovered breath from the 
severe throttling she had given him, he leaped away, and 
for the first time since his memorable puppyhood, gave his 
Stoic philosophy to the winds. He wheeled about her — 
now this way — now that way — at every jump sending the 
dry leaves whirling in all directions through the air. It 
was in vain that she called him to her in fond tones — in 
vain that she scolded him soundly for so unceremoniously 
leaving her side after their long separation. 

“Why, Grim, are you crazy?” she exclaimed at last, see- 
ing he did not mind a word she said to him, but continued 
his strange antics. 

“ Come here. Grim, and tell me why you frightened me 
so?” 

For the first time in their long acquaintance, the dog 
refused to come at her bidding. He seemed to be resolved 
on taking a jubjlee to himself, and doing as he pleased for 
this once, if never again. He shot ofif into the woods like 
an arrow, until almost out of sight, cutting up the virgin 
soil with his great hind claws, and scattering it broadcast, 
until it pattered like raindrops on the dead leaves, or 
struck against his mistress’s face, to the great danger of 
her eyes. Turning, he came back at about the same rate, 
and whizzing past her, stayed not his steps a moment, 
but darted away in the opposite direction. Coming up 
again to where she stood, he described a semicircle about 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 251 


her, sweeping so close as almost to touch her person — like 
the Olympian of old turning the goal — and in a trice was 
off again into the woods. 

He soon came back and performed in a few short 
spurts — then zigzag — the while tearing up the soil, like 
the black thunderbolt that he was — and like it, too, in 
running the thing quite into the ground — at least in his 
mistress’s opinion. He made a succession of leaps into the 
air, as though clearing imaginary obstacles. He sprang, too, 
over real ones, such as logs, low-hanging branches, or any 
object that chanced to be across his course ; and his mis- 
tress feared, on more than one occasion, — when he ap- 
proached very close to her with this leap-frog fit on him, — 
that he was going to be guilty of the signal disrespect of 
jumping quite over her head. It is, however, due to Grim’s 
uniform good manners to say, that, although such a thought 
might have flashed through his bewildered brain at some 
time during these impulsive gambols, his politeness re- 
strained him from any such gross indignity. 

A most astonishing thing is, that, during these varied 
performances. Grim’s long-lost voice was gradually coming 
back to him. He began with a scarcely audible whine, or 
whimper, while he was yet making his first curvetings 
round about his mistress — like the first shufflings of an 
old-time plantation darkey, when he would fain get the 
hang of a “ho-down” which he is going to dance. This 
whine became louder and louder, and at the same time 
shorter and shorter, until, towards the end of his wonder- 
ful feats — to which, indeed, one might think it was de- 
signed as an accompaniment — there might have been 
recognized in it some of the rudiments of a genuine bark — 
which a pup with his eyes just fairly open might not have 
been ashamed to own. And inasmuch as his eyes were 
well-nigh ready to open on the memorable occasion when 


252 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


he had lost his voice, it would seem that he was now trying 
to resume it at the precise point where he had then so 
unaccountably left off 

Now, whether the sagacious dog got this exhibition up 
for the special purpose of diverting his beloved mistress, 
and thus beguiling her from the wretched state into which, 
in his super-canine sagacity, he may have seen (who 
knows?) that terror had thrown her, or whether he was but 
obeying an instinctive impulse, that was simply irresistible, 
to work off, by means of these excessive muscular exer- 
tions, the exuberance of his joy at meeting once more with 
her whom he had long since given up as forever lost to 
him, or whether both these conjectures are in some degree 
correct, I cannot say. At any rate, both objects seem to 
have been gained. So far as the girl’s diversion was con- 
cerned, there was certainly no lack of it. At first, her 
feeling was that of simple astonishment, mixed perhaps 
with a transient apprehension that her four-footed friend, 
heretofore so wdiolly undemonstrative, must have taken 
leave of his senses, or he would never, in his old days, fall 
to capering in this most ridiculous fashion. After he had 
made a few turns, however, she began to smile, — after a 
few more, she laughed outright, — and long before he was 
done with it, she was under the influence of mirth to such 
an extent that the forest rang with her merry peals, as 
they came forth one after another, while the tears streamed 
down her cheeks. At last she was compelled, not only to 
hold her sides, with very pain, but to avert her eyes occa- 
sionally from the ludicrous feats which caused it. 

Grim’s unwonted behavior served likewise as a vent to 
his superfluity of spirits, for when he brought his unique 
pantomime to a close — which he did quite as abruptly as 
he had opened it — he relapsed so completely into his 
olden imperturbable way, that his mistress chid him smartly 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 253 


for running into such extremes : she thought an interme- 
diate stage highly desirable at times. Particularly would 
she have liked him to preserve that embryo yelp which he 
had just now favored her with. She was not without hope 
that, with assiduous care, it might be yet cultivated into a 
most dogly voice. The only fault, indeed, which she ever 
had to urge against him was, that, however much he might 
feel, he never had anything at all to say on any subject 
that came up between them in these solitudes, where the 
stillness was often so profound as to be oppressive, and even 
painful, to her unrelieved ear. 

Poor girl ! she was fated never to hear his unmelodious 
notes again. Poor dog I never more, but once, did he vex 
with them these wild solitudes — and then in a far different 
key from this, the joyous day of their meeting. 

Filly now resumed her journey — the dog, as was his 
wont, following close behind, though occasionally moving 
up to her side. She had, since she grew up, retained a 
foolish habit, contracted in childhood, of putting into words 
and addressing them to him, such thoughts as others often 
indulge in, but would never dream of shaping into speech 
for the benefit of any animal whatever, human or other. 

‘‘ Grim,” she now said, putting her hand on his head, as 
they walked along, “look at me, sir, and say how you hap- 
pened to find me? How in the world did you. Grim?” 

Grim looked up, as desired — but said nothing. 

Then she began to speculate as to how the thing had' 
happened. 

“Oh, I know: when they broke up camp and went away, 
instead of taking you with them to that horrid war, where 
you could n’t have been of any use, they turned you over 
to those half-dozen men that stayed behind. Some of these 
were going into town this evening, and had you with 
22 


254 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


them. Well, when you got to where this path leaves the 
great road, you struck my trail, where I had just passed 
along. Of course you would then leave them — or any- 
body else — and come to me. That was the way. Was n’t 
it, old fellow ? 

“Yes — that was the way,” she continued, nodding her 
head as the dog gave an upward glance, which she at once 
interpreted as an affirmative answer — like an over-fond 
mamma explaining the first unmeaning accents and ges- 
tures of her babe, — or, rather, substituting in their stead 
something of real meaning, — for her own diversion, and 
too often, whether intentional or not, with the effect of 
boring some crusty — and it is probably not too much to 
add, envious — old bachelor, bystanding. 

These speculations gave Filly a hint which she now 
resolved to make use of in framing a story to mislead the 
Senorita about her manner of getting to the lake. At the 
moment when the great fright came upon her, the reader 
may recollect — though Filly did not, for that scare had 
knocked every trace of it out of her head forever — that 
she was just “fixing up” the old lost-child story — revamp- 
ing it to suit the case — and had nearly completed it, when 
the mighty Grim, regardless of consequences, came rushing 
dow'u upon her, clothed with something as much like death 
to her as anything could well be short of the pale monster 
himself — except, that, in this case, he was not pale, but 
very black. 

“I ’ll just pretend,” she thought, “that, when they broke 
up camp yesterday, they left me Grim for a protector, and 
told me to shift for myself; and that I came here because 
I thought it was such a pretty place. That will do very 
well to begin with. It ’s not exactly true, to be sure, but I 
begin to think truth is getting rather scarce, anyhow. So 
that, if I keep on dealing in it altogether — gold, I believe 


.MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


255 


some of them call it — and never use the baser currency in 
my dealings, I shall be brought very low at last. 

“ But I must take care to tell the lady nothing about my 
having lived on such close terms with Senor. That would 
never do. I ’ll pass myself off as the daughter of one of 
his married men. And, pray, whose child am I ? Nobody 
knows. I must have a name ready, though : she might ask 
me what it was — and that would be awkward. Ah, me! 
I have no name but Filly. A few months ago I hoped it 
would be Filly Gatewood. And it may be that yet. Who 
can tell ? 

“ Let me see : there is Whishton. He and his wife (or 
whatever she is — or waSy rather — I believe she’s dead 
now) are about the best behaved among them, I ’ve heard 
Sefior say. Then let it be Whishton, when the great lady 
comes to ask me about — ” 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

I do believe thee : 

Give me thy hand. Winter’s Tale. 

With thoughts so qualified as your charities 
Shall best instruct you ; measure me. 

Winter’s Tale. ♦- 

M erciful heavens! Grim — there ’s the house ! ” ex- 
claimed the girl, staying her steps as suddenly as hei 
speculations. Stooping down, she peered through the trees 
at the unpretending cottage, now only a few rods distant. 
Her heart throbbed violently for a while; but, nerving 
herself, she succeeded in reducing it to comparative quiet, 
and went on. 


256 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


As she walked up to the house she saw no one. Notic- 
ing, however, that the doors were open, and some of the 
windows hoisted, she concluded that the premises were 
probably not altogether deserted ; so she stepped around 
to that side of the house which looked towards the lake. 
There, she came upon a lady half reclining in a hammock, 
with that listless ease and abandoned grace of attitude 
which none know so well as a Spanish woman how to 
assume — if, indeed, it is not, in her, a natural gift, not at 
all needing to be assumed. Now and then she touched the 
ground with the toe of her dainty foot, which, clothed in 
a well-fitted slipper, was pendent from the hammock’s 
side, thus giving her suspended cradle a barely perceptible 
motion to and fro, which contributed much to the luxu- 
rious air of the scene. 

As Filly approached, the lady’s back was towards her. 
For all the girl could tell, she might have been in a deep 
reverie ; or she might have been gazing in fixed admira- 
tion on the beauties which always clustered, at the sunset- 
hour, around the lovely crystal-clear sheet of water before 
her. All this looked so luxurious and queenly to Filly, 
who had now stolen up until almost in contact with the 
lady — not directly behind her, but somewhat to one side — 
that she felt no little embarrassment, and did not know 
exactly in what manner to proceed. After standing there, 
howev^’, for nearly a minute, she began to feel so foolish 
that she resolved to make an attempt. 

“ I should like you to tell me, Senorita,” she said, in a 
soft, low tone, “ if I may — stay here — all night ? ” 

The lady, startled in the midst of her abstraction by such 
an unusual sound in these parts as a sweet, feminine voice, 
was almost ready to think, for the moment, — since no human 
being was yet visible, — that an angel had asked to tarry 
with her. She at once leaped from the hammock, and 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 257 

faced about, to get a look at this wholly unexpected visitor. 
Seeing before her a beautiful girl, neatly, ^ven tastefully 
dressed, — though more than a trifle bedraggled — a condi- 
tion for which in these parts she had long since learned to 
make due allowance, — and, withal, in every way prepos- 
sessing, she came forward as soon as her first surprise was 
over, and proffered her hand, glad enough, no doubt, to 
have a guest promising so agreeable a breakiug-in upon 
her loneliness, which, indeed, had been the burden of her 
interrupted meditations. 

“ I should be glad truly, to have you stay,” she said, in 
tones which seemed to come from her heart. “ But who 
is it — if you will let me ask — that is to be my guest 
to-night?” 

“ I — I — came from — ” 

The girl was so overcome by this unlooked-for kind- 
ness of manner, and so impressed with the Senorita’s supe- 
riority to any lady she had yet seen, that ghe could not, for 
her life, recollect her manufactured story, and so came 
very near telling the real one. She was on the point of 
saying she had just come from the town, — which, for obvi- 
ous reasons, must have materially damaged her project. 
But the Senorita, seeing her hesitation, and very naturally 
attributing it wholly to bashfulness, came graciously to her 
relief. 

“ I suppose you have lost your way ? ” she suggej^ed. 

“Yes — not exactly, either. I came from the camp — 
Camp Wildwood, you know.” 

“ Why, I thought Captain — ” 

Here the Senorita, in her turn, seemed a little confused, — 
which served to reassure Filly, since it tended to bring 
them towards the same level. 

“ That is,” resumed Isabella, correcting herself, “ I 
understood they were all to leave the camp yesterday.” 

22 * 


258 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


“ And so they did,” explained Filly. And this morn- 
ing I started for town. But by the time I got to where 
your lake-road leaves the other, I felt so tired, and night 
was so near, I thought I would come here, where I had 
heard you were living, and ask you — ” 

“ Not left in the wilderness by yourself? ” interrupted 
the Senorita. “ How could they all be so heartless ? ” 

“ Not quite by myself,” replied Filly, stepping a little 
aside, by which movement Grim was unveiled to the lady’s 
view — for he had kept close at his mistress’s heels. “ Here 
is my escort.” 

The Senorita started back a step on beholding this huge 
apparition. 

“Is that your protector? Why, if he were mine, I 
shouldn’t know whether to be most afraid of him, or of 
the wolves. He has such a ferocious look.” 

Now, as the expression of Grim’s face was not at all that 
of ferocity, but iperely an habitual, imperturbable calmness, 
such as can arise only from the consciousness of being 
equal to any emergency, whenever, wherever, and however 
it may be sprung, it is more than probable the Senorita 
only meant that, from his great size, he would be exceed- 
ingly formidable as a foe, and that she would, of all things, 
deprecate the forfeiture of his good will. 

“They say he’s not pretty,” said Filly, supposing the 
lady n^ant, in substance, the same thing — only in a very 
exaggerated degree. 

“That opinion is surely correct,” observed Isabella, 
drily, as she again looked at the dog. 

“ Poor old fellow ! ” said Filly, patting the dog’s great 
head with her shapely hand of dazzling whiteness, on 
which glittered several valuable and showy rings — the gift 
of that faithless lover, to reinstate herself in whose favor 
was her sole business here. 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 259 


Now there are not many objects more beautiful than 
such a hand, so decorated; and the girl could have done 
nothing that would have tended more than this simple act 
to mar what little beauty there was in Grim’s physiog- 
nomy, and at the same time to set off to advantage the 
caressing hand. It was, if possible, worse than the toad 
with a jewel in his head, or the Ethiop with one in his ear 
— the contrast, at least, was more striking. She was, how-, 
ever, very far from intending any such thing; for, not only 
was Grim a favorite whom she could not for a moment 
think of derogating in any way whatsoever, but, moreover, 
vanity was not one of her foibles. 

Isabella, with her usual quickness, saw and appreciated 
all this at a glance, and now became afraid she had hurt 
the girl’s feelings. It certainly speaks well for her kindness 
of heart, that, although the dog, under the disadvantage of 
the contrast which his mistress had so unwittingly brought 
to notice, looked to her eyes, many fold uglier than before, 
she now tried to find in his face something to offset her 
very uncomplimentary remark. 

.“He has a good face, though,” she said, looking, or pre- 
tending to look, more closely at him: “there is nothing 
sneaking about it. Now I come to see his expression 
better, I ’ll venture to say there ’s no honester dog to be 
found anywhere.” 

“You never spoke truer words, Senorita,” said Filly, 
evidently reconciled, — and, to say truth, a little touched. 

“But I want to know something about yourself,” said 
Isabella. “What little you have told me of your story 
only awakens my interest, and makes me wish to learn 
more.* Come — let us sit down here, and talk until supper 
is ready.” 

Saying which, she took a seat on one of the skins — 
which, except during a shower, or when the leaves were 


260 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

still wet, were kept constantly beneath the trees, from an 
early hour until bed-time — while Filly perched herself on 
the other one, hard by. 

“Why did you prefer to stay at the camp? I didn’t 
know that any of our sex ever stayed there?” 

“Oh, yes — a few. I — I am the daughter of one of the 
men.” 

“Indeed!” exclaimed the Senorita, as though surprisea 
that such a corrupt tree could bring forth such fruit. 
“And your mother — is she living?” 

“No,” replied Filly, looking down; “my mother is 
dead.” 

“No mother — no home — and her father gone away into 
a bloody war!” said the Senorita, in a very low tone, and 
in a half musing mood, as she looked away and turned her 
gaze — it may have been mechanically, from long habit — 
on the lake. 

“My dear,” she resumed — after a little pause — in 
louder tones, and again fixing her eyes on the girl, “your 
fortunes, thus far, are much like my own — only, I think, 
you are even more to be pitied. At least more to be 
pitied in some respects,” she added, when she thought of 
the lamentable condition of her heart-affairs. “I, as well 
as yourself, have no mother. We are alike, too, in having 
no home; for, as you may know, I have been driven from 
mine. I am living here now — or, rather, sojourning for a 
little while — by the kindness of a friend, who offered me 
the use of his house.” 

“But your father’s living, I suppose?” said Filly — by 
this time much interested. 

“Alas! no,” exclaimed Isabella, glad of the melahcholy 
luxury — rare in those solitudes — of pouring her heavy 
sorrows into a sympathizing ear. “ And that is one of the 
strokes of fate which I find it hardest to bear : not merely 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 2G1 


that he is dead — but the dreadful way in which he was 
butchered.” 

“Butchered!” exclaimed Filly, aghast. 

“Yes — by those bloody Gachupi ns,” replied Isabella, 
with a look of ineffable sadness. “ And not satisfied even 
wfith that,” she added, — after a short pause, which was 
compelled by a choking sensation, while her large dark 
eyes glistened with moisture, — “they treated his poor life- 
less body, like the savages that they are. And as for my 
dear — dear mother, I have every reason to think she died 
from the effect of these atrocities. It is certain she never 
rallied from the shock.” 

“It seems to me, Senorita,” said Filly, — with all her nat- 
urally strong sympathies roused for the sad lady confront- 
ing her, yet with a certain air of hesitation, as though she 
scarcely knew whether to say it or not, — “ that you had 
not very good ground for saying I was more to be pitied 
than yourself.” 

“You mean, I suppose, because your father is still liv- 
ing? True enough. But besides these, there are other 
things which — ” 

The Senorita left the sentence unfinished, for the pres- 
ent — much to Filly’s regret — and looking away again, 
went off into a reverie. Great as was the girl’s desire to 
hear the rest of it, she shrank from the rudeness of asking 
w^hat the lady evidently wished to withhold. She could 
not, however, refrain from speculating on what those 
“ other things ” probably were. Hope, at that moment, 
sprang up full-fledged in her heart. 

“ She can only mean,” — thus she fondly mused, — “that, 
although she is in love with Senor, he has deserted her, 
instead of returning her love. And I ought to know what 
that means I ” 

“ But you haven’t told me your name yet. What shall 


2G2 MORE THAN SHE COULH BEAR. 

I call you?” asked Isabella, rousing from her absent 
mood. 

“ My name is Filly — Whishton. Call me Filly — that’s 
the name I’ve been used to.” 

“ Well, Filly, I am truly glad you’ve come to see me. 
But I hope you’ll stay longer than to-night — much longer. 
Why do you wish to go to Natchitoches? Have you any 
very particular friends there ? ” 

“ Oh, no — I just thought it a better place for me to stay, 
than out there in the woods ; and you know I had no home 
to go to.” 

“ And so it is a better place. But, if that is all, I hope 
to persuade you to stay with me— at least until your father 
comes back, — or just as long as you can. I have no one 
at all for company now, except two old servants, and you 
know how dull that must be. My uncle and my brother 
left, yesterday, for Texas, and will not return until the war 
is over. To be sure, if we drive the Gachupins out of the 
province, I may go back to my home near San Antonio, — 
but, then, it may be a long time before that is done. You 
can’t imagine how lonely I have felt ever since my uncle 
and brother left me; and if you had n’t come, I really don’t 
think I could have endured it much longer. When you 
came so suddenly on me a little while ago, I was thinking 
seriously of breaking up here, and going to Natchitoches 
myself, — as much as I dislike the thought of leaving such 
a beautiful place as this. But if you will only promise to stay 
with me, I would much rather remain here just as long as 
I can keep you : I don’t like to live in a town. Will you 
promise me?” 

I should be delighted to do so,” replied the girl, — who 
hated, even worse than the Senorita, to be cramped up in 
town. “But — ” 

“ But what — dear?” 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 263 


Filly, as we have seen, had had sharp compunctions 
about leaving her kind old friend, Mrs. Davies, in suspense 
about her, even for one night only ; and now, when she 
thought how cruel it would be to protract that suspense to 
an indefinite period, she s»w the necessity of at least let- 
ting her know where she had resolved to cast her lot. This 
reflection it was which had arrested her tongue in the 
middle of the sentence. 

“ There ’s something I shall have to attend to in town 
before I can make that promise,” replied Filly. 

“ Is it something that requires your personal attention? 
or can I send Miguel in with a note from you,” said the 
Senorita, — “or a message,” she added, as she thought of 
the very great probability that the poor girl could neither 
read nor write. 

“Perhaps that would do,” said Filly. 

“ Oh, no — it wouldn’t,” she continued when it occurred 
to her, that she owed it to her old friend in town, after 
running away from her, not only to go in person and ex- 
plain her conduct, but to bid her good-bye, before separat- 
ing from her for, probably, a long time. “ I have some- 
thing else to do there, that I must do myself.” 

“Well, when will you be obliged to go? Put it off as 
long as you can.” 

“Oh, I can’t possibly put it off longer than to-morrow.” 

• “ But you will 'come back to me soon ? ” 

“Yes ; Grim and I can walk in,” she said, laying her hand 
affectionately on the neck of the dog, who, making himself 
at home, as was his wont, wherever he chanced to be, had 
lain down beside his mistress on the skin of that same 
dreadful bear, which, with the Captain’s timely assistance, 
he had slain nearly a year before. “And if I’m not too 
tired we can come back the next day.” 

“Do you never ride on horseback. Filly?” 


264 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


“Oh yes — whenever I get a chance. I think it’s splen- 
did to be on a horse. But I* never had a horse; and, so, 
I ’ve learned to take long walks. 1 can ride pretty well, 
though : I often rode Senor’s horse.” 

“ Who is Senor?” • 

“He’s — one of the men.” 

“A Spaniard, I suppose: Senor is a Spanish word.” 

“Oh, no — he’s an American,” replied Filly, by this 
time blushing, and looking quite confused, into the bargain. 

Instantly seeing this, the Senorita very considerately 
forbore to pursue any further the fortuitous investigation, 
and returned to the original subject. The impression, how- 
ever, was, then and there, made upon her — which, indeed, 
remained to the last — that this mysterious “Senor,” what- 
ever his right name might be, was the girl’s lover, and one, 
too, on whom she had most probably deigned to smile. It 
was, in itself, a trivial circumstance; but served, through 
the mysterious workings of sympathy, to draw the lone girl 
still closer into her favor. 

“Now, I have a nice pony,” said Isabella; “and you 
must n’t think of walking so far. Miguel will go in with 
you to-morrow morning; and I don’t see w^hy you can’t 
return in the afternoon.” 

“Why, yes,” replied the girl, dejighted at the prospect 
of such a rare treat: “if I ride, there’s nothing to prevent 
my coming back to-morrow.” 

By this time it was nearly dark. Stefanita now came 
out to announce supper, and the ladies withdrew to the 
house. 

Filly’s was one of those natures which are subject to 
abrupt transitions, from cheerfulness to despondency, and 
the reverse, (though her cheerfulness, of late days, seldom 
came in a very demonstrative guise,) often without adequate 
cause, and, indeed, at times with no cause at all, so far as a 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 265 

person of greater equanimity might have been able to judge. ’ 
From having been, just now, so hopeful that Gatewood cared 
more for her than he did for the Senorita, she soon found 
herself plunged again into the depths of despair. All she 
had yet seen of this lady had impressed her not only favor* 
ably, but almost to the verge of adoration. The beauty of 
her person, the marvellous sweetness of her expression, her 
charming manners, her exquisite grace, her gentleness, her 
rich, low, winsome voice, — and, above all, the ever kind 
turn of her sentiments, — had sunk so deeply into her simple 
heart, that she no longer presumed to think for a moment, 
that she herself, who had never enjoyed any of those ines- 
timable advantages, which contact with the world of 
fashion gives its votaries — if they will but properly avail 
themselves of them, instead of, as they too often do, so mixing 
with it, that it proves a curse rather than a blessing — I say, 
she did not presume to think that she could bear ojff the 
palm from any such rival in love as this. On her way to 
town, next day, her musings showed that her sole bright 
hope of the previous evening was already gloomed over. 

‘^Her sadness cannot be — as I thought it was — for want 
of Senor’s love: I have no longer any doubt that he loves 
her. He must love her. How could any man be with such a 
woman, as much as they say he has been with her, and not 
lose his heart? I used to think he loved me: he told me 
£0-^often, and often; and I suppose he was sincere. But 
from the moment he met with her, (it could not have been 
otherwise,) I was undone! Well, how could he help it? 
He had eyes, and she had all these charms. I shall have 
to forgive him : but ah, it will be hard to do! Forget him, 

I never can. 

should like to live with her all my life. Yes — even 
after they are married — if only as a friend to both. I 
would be willing to do almost anything — make almost any 
23 


266 MORE THAK SHE COULD BEAR. 

sacrifice — to win her love, and keep it. Ah! the greatest 
sacrifice is already made. 

“Here am I, thinking about winning her love, when I 
have already deceived her so. I ’m so sorry I told her 
such stories — and she, all the time, so kind. It was cruel 
— it was treacherous. To tell her that Senor was one of 
the men! To tell her, too, that I was the daughter of one 
of the men! And that my father was still living! Well, 
he may be living, for anything I know ; but I shall never 
see him, nor know who he is — never. 

“I wish, so much, I had told her the truth — or not told 
her anything at all. But I had to say something. Oh, I 
do wish I had stayed where I was, and not gone near her. 
I can never tell her the truth about it, now; for that 
would be owning that I told a lie before, — and with all 
her kindness to me, that would never do. But I ’ll do this 
much: I’ll go back to her and cheer her lonely hours as 
well as I can. 

“May it not be, after all, that she does not return Se- 
fior’s love? No— no— what woman is there in the world 
that would n’t love Umf There is nothing left me but to 
bear it as best I can.” 

It must be owned that the girl rather complicated than 
improved her heart-affairs, by this venturesome visit to the 
lake, which, before starting out, she had so fondly flattered 
herself would better her prospects. When she came, she 
was in love with but one; whereas, she now found herself 
deeply smitten with another— and that, a rival— one, too, 
who would most probably bear off the palm. 


MORE THAX SHE COULD BEAR. 


267 


CHAPTER XXVIl. 


She, sweet lady, dotes 


Upon this spotted and inconstant man. 

Midsutmuer Night’s Dream. 

I cannot speak, nor think, 

Nor dare to know, that whieh I know. — Winter’s Tale. 

They are the silent griefs which cut the heart-strings.—Foiii). 

CCORDING to promise, Fiily returned that evening 



-0_ to the lake, ‘*bag and baggage,” — prepared to stay 
with her new-made friend. She had found Mrs. Davies in 
great distress over her sudden and mysterious disappear- 
ance. The old lady, on missing her, had lost not a mo- 
ment in causing thorough search to be made, not only in 
the town, but some distance in the surrounding country; 
while, at the same time, she dispatched to the site of the 
late camp an emissary, who was instructed to extend his 
investigations thereabouts, and as far beyond as the mise- 
rable shanties in which most of the wives and wantons of 
Gatewood’s men were hived during the absence of the 
latter toward Texas. To have sent, for this purpose, into 
the unpeopled wilderness, at large, — houseless — pathless 
— limitless — as it was, — would have been the height of 
madness. 

These various searches having proved alike futile, the 
old dame, although still sorely wrung, had begun to feel in 
her heart a little of that comfort which always comes from 
having done one’s best in a good cause, when, in stepped 
Filly and put an instant end — for the time at least — to her 
solicitude. Her first joy over, she listened absorbedly to tlie 
girl’s story, of which the latter, of course, told only so much 


268 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


as her ancient friend had a clear right to know. Then 
came the reprimand — which, on the whole, was not a very 
crushing one — and next, the startling announcement from 
Filly, that she was going to return to the lake that very 
evening, by urgent invitation of the Sefiorita, to stay with 
her wdiile her friends w^ere absent on military business. 

Mrs. Davies was a good deal shocked (in her way) to 
hear this, wdiich she thought savored somewhat of ingrati- 
tude. But when she came to recollect that Filly, in taking 
this course, was but doing the very thing she herself had 
advised her to do only a day or two before, except, indeed, 
that she was taking Time a little by the forelock, (which, 
how'ever, she readily admitted, was, all things considered, a 
much safer hold on the old fellow than the fetlock,) she 
gave in with a very good grace, and, like the benevolent 
creature she was, declared, in the end, her entire willing- 
ness for the withdraw^al of the only spot of sunshine that 
had lit up her cheerless old walls for many a day. Ac- 
cordingly, the two took an affectionate leave of each other, 
and, as was said, a few lines back, Filly reached the lake in 
safety. 

Grim, who had received his mistresses mandate, to stay 
there until she came back, did so with his wonted fidelity ; 
and had she stayed away very much longer — nay, had the 
sky fallen, I verily believe he would have remained as faith- 
fully at his post, as did his counterpart, the old Roman 
sentinel, at the gate of Pompeii, through all the fearful 
time when the Sicilian sky came as near falling as perhaps a 
sky ever did — when cinders, ashes, and fire were being rained 
on that devoted city. Our four-footed Roman, however — 
now, no doubt, become a little nervous on the subject of 
separation from his mistress — had shown tvhut were, for 
him, unusual signs of anxiety about her return. He had, 
for instance, kept constantly on that side of the house from 


MORK THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 269 

which she had started forth ; and had there been any one 
scrutinizing his movements — which, however, there was 
not — he might have been seen to look often up the path 
she had taken, and even to wander forth occasionally a 
few rods in that direction, as though hoping to catch sight 
of her returning figure. And when she came at last, there 
was visible a sparkle in his usually listless eye, while his 
tail, like certain military campaigns, — first proposed, I 
believe, by one Horatio Whitetile, but, from some cause, 
not very successfully executed at the time, — “short, sharp, 
and decisive,” would actually have suggested to anyone 
who could have seen the point just then, something of a 
wag. 

From this time forth, it is almost needless to say. Filly 
and the Senorita were fast friends. They were like two 
fond sisters wdio have met after a long separation. Their 
life here was necessarily monotonous ; but they kept con- 
stantly together, and by the exercise of a little concerted 
ingenuity, managed almost daily to vary the general rou- 
tine to such' degree as to make things quite endurable. In 
the matter of reading, to which both were exceedingly 
partial, they were unfortunately very limited. Could they 
have had plenty of choice books. Time would have moulted 
at once his heavy wing, and, donning gossamer instead, 
would have borne them lightly enough along. Isabella 
usually sent the old Mexican to town every two or three 
days, to gather any news that might be stirring, or to pur- 
chase groceries, or other articles essential to run the domes- 
tic machinery with any kind of comfort. On these occa- 
sions he had a standing order to bring back with him such 
newspapers or books as he might find purchasable. The 
consequence was, he rarely returned without one or more 
of the former — but to get possession of a book was indeed 
:i rare event. 

2:i * 


270 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


Miguel, although by no means an Isaak Walton, usually 
managed to keep the establishment well supplied with such 
fish as abounded in the lake. . Nor was he either a Nim- 
rod, or a “crack” shot, — yet, where game was so abun- 
dant that a gun discharged, at random, into a thicket, 
might be reasonably expected to bring something down, — 
a deer, or a turkey, or something else, and possibly all 
three, — must have been very derelict indeed, had he suf- 
fered the ladies to be stinted in viands. On one occasion 
of his going forth, armed and equipped, to do justifiable 
murder upon the denizens of the forest, the ladies, for the 
sake of the excitement it promised, accompanied him to 
the deer-station and thence to the turkey-roost. This once, 
however, sufficed for all time. To be sure, they were va- 
riety-seekers, and here was no lack of variety, — but it 
could hardly be said to be of agreeable quality. They had 
been accustomed, when they had before gone forth with 
hunters — as, indeed, both of them had often done — to 
seeing the victim fall dead in its tracks from a ball sent 
with unerring aim through brain or heart. But Miguel — 
although he no doubt did the thing as neatly as he could, 
and began to think himself a “star” hunter — made really 
such a bungle of it, that the mangled animal was a long 
time in the death-throes, and at last was put out of its pro- 
tracted misery after most unscientific fashions, —a deer, 
by crushing the skull with the rifle-butt ; one of the feath- 
ered tribe, by a wrench of the neck, — both methods pro- 
ducing sounds revolting to the ear of any but a veritable 
savage. 

Not wishing to witness, a second time, the agonies of the 
poor dumb creatures, — who not only had' done them no 
harm while living, but were likely, after due preparation by 
Stefanita, to do them much good when dead, — they hence- 
forth and forever firmly but courteously declined the ur- 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 271 

gent solicitations of the old Mexican to attend his bloody 
exhibitions, — when not fellow-creatures, to be sure, as of 
old, but poor innocent brutes, were to be “ butchered to 
make a holiday.” 

They sometimes strolled out into the woods to gather 
flowers. Grim always acting as escort. The Senorita was 
at first very loth to go, for fear of encountering wild 
beasts ; and when at length she did consent to make the 
venture, could not be persuaded to trust herself out of sight 
of the house. On her companion’s assurance, however, 
confidently given and frequently iterated, that there was 
not the least danger when Grim was about, — backed by 
many stories of his prowess in throttling the largest and 
most ferocious beasts to death, single-handed, — Isabella 
was induced to extend her walk a little every day, until, 
finally, she ventured as far as she pleased without a fear, 
or even a thought, of molestation. 

The Senorita would sometimes vary these pedestrian 
excursions by sallying forth, with Filly behind her, on the 
pony — Miguel’s horse being a mule, (by an “ Irish bull,”) 
and therefore scarcely ridable by a lady, consistently with 
comfort. Thus mounted, they would thread the woods, 
along the bridle-paths, for miles ; and although more than 
once lost on these occasions, their four-footed factotum — 
their walking forest-encyclopfedia — the inevitable Grim, 
when appealed to show them the way back, was never for 
a moment at a loss. 

But the lake was their favorite place of resort. When 
Filly first caught sight of the little boat, — when strolling 
on the beach, alone, one day soon after her arrival, — she 
resolved she would learn to row, so that she and the Seno- 
rita might glide away over the bright water whenever and 
whithersoever they pleased. With this determination, and 
without more ado, she leaped into the beautiful wee craft. 


272 MOUE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


and taking up an oar, pushed out boldly from the shelving 
beach. No sooner, however, did she feel the peculiar sen- 
sation which such motion imparts to a person who has 
never experienced it, or, having once experienced it, has 
long since forgotten what it is, than she felt a chord in her 
memory, which had not been awakened for years, so rudely 
swept, that its vibrations thrilled through her whole soul. 
How slight oft-times the influences which thus rouse the 
emotions, — bringing up thoughts and recollections — the 
bitter no less than the sweet — which, for years, had lain 
dormant, or buried in oblivion. A sudden whiff of your 
dead sweetheart’s favorite flower, coming upon you, it may 
be, in the midst of gayety, may recall some happy tryst 
when she wore that flower over her heart, and when the 
tide of your love flowed along in unwonted smoothness, 
with no warning of the rocks so close ahead. The cooing 
of a distant dove may bring back to your recollection that 
evening when, a child, you went out, alone and forlorn, to 
muse for the first time over your mother’s grave — for 
then, as now, that mournful voice was plaining to you from 
afar. And so it is with the other senses. 

So, too, it was with Filly. She had not even so much as 
seen a boat for years; but when she felt this one gliding 
along under her, from the sudden impulse she had given 
it, there trooped up, as from the very grave, memories of 
that wilder life she had once led, when, in a frail canoe, 
guided by swarthy, often bloody, hands, she had stemmed 
the rapids of dashing rivers, or shot over the surface of 
some glassy lake that was set, like a gem, in the wilderness 
which was even then her home. 

So vividly did the renewal of this long unfelt motion 
recall those hours of her cheerless childhood, and so pain- 
fully did the thought of them affect her, that she at once 
dropped the oar and sank down into the bottom of the 


MORE THAN SPIE COULD BEAR. 


273 


boat. Resolved, however, not to give way (so foolishly, as 
she thought it) to a mere recollection, in a few minutes 
she rose and resumed the oar; and in her persistent efforts 
to guide and propel the boat, her attention was so com- 
pletely diverted from the dread association which had upset 
her equanimity, that she forgot all about it. 

Day after day, henceforward, could she have been seen thus 
practising upon the lake ; and it was not many days before 
she had made herself — considering the time and opportu- 
nities of her apprenticeship — a pretty fair oarswoman, — 
at least, sujficientiy so to induce Isabella, on an urgent 
invitation, to venture out with her. And from that time, 
scarcely a day passed that they were not skimming about 
over the water, circumnavigating the miniature islands, or 
lolling listlessly in the boat, with the oars shipped, leaving it 
to the sport of the breeze and of the little waves of the lake, 
which swung it lazily on its gently breathing bosom; while 
the Senorita, who always took her guitar along on these 
occasions, would sing some stirring patriotic ballad, which 
suited well her own taste ; or, as was much oftener the case, 
some melancholy love-song which accorded with the tastes 
of both. 

But while the two girls were such fast friends, neither 
had more than the vaguest suspicion of the main secret of 
the other’s life — that which, more than all other things 
combined, influenced the thoughts, motives, and feelings 
of her companion. The one labored under the delusion 
that she really knew a good deal about the other’s heart- 
affairs-; but it was, at most, only a delusion. The other had 
but made a sort of wild conjecture that her guest had been 
smitten with that passion, which to herself had proved at 
once the joy and misery of life. Filly may sometimes have 
wondered why, if the Senorita really loved Gatewood, she 
had never even so much as mentioned his name, when she 


274 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

had been far from reticent about other matters no less per- 
sonal to herself. But when she came to think of it fully, 
was not that self-imposed silence a very strong proof, in 
itself, that she loved him — and that, too, with so deej-) a 
love that she could not lightly utter his name ? “ J would 
not speak of him to others,” she thought, “either now, or 
when I used to think he loved me so well.” 

Moreover, when she recollected that, on the first evening 
of their meeting, the Senorita, during their conversation, 
partly pronounced his name, then checked hei'self, and 
looking confused, finally passed entirely around it, she was 
led — judging from what her own feelings would have been 
in the same predicament — to hold this, too, as a sure sign 
of love. She dick not, for a moment, suspect that her 
hostess’s real motive for silence with regard to him was, 
that she wished to dismiss him entirely from her mind, ex- 
cept in so far as he was a champion of her country’s free- 
dom ; and that, even as such, it would have pained her ex- 
ceedingly to allow his name to pass her lips — even those 
lips on which his passionate kisses had, but a few days 
ago, been imprinted. She was offering herself up as a sac- 
rifice to a hallowed cause ; the bare thought of an immo- 
lation so ruinous to her individual happiness agonized her ; 
the bare thought of the glorious end to be attained for 
her bleeding country elated and sustained her. But 
whether thinking of this theme or of the other, she felt 
that her use of his name was but so much unnecessary self- 
torture. 

The two, then, keeping clear of love, talked of almost 
everything else. Filly, on her part,, gave the Senorita a 
detailed, and by no means uninteresting account of how 
she had spent her life in camp, together with her views 
and feelings amid surroundings of a character so very ex- 
ceptional — taking care, of course, to keep out of sight her 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 273 

relations with the Chief — indeed, without once throwing 
out the remotest hint that she had even a casual acquaint- 
ance with him. 

On the other hand, the Senorita, with the exception 
of that passion which had tinged the whole woof of her 
existence, gave her companion, at various times, such 
glimpses of her past as could not but prove both entertain- 
ing and instructive to one who had derived from novels 
alone nearly all the knowledge of society which she pos- 
sessed — a detail of real experience in matters of the fash- 
ionable world being to her something wholly new. The 
truth is, Isabella became — though without once thinking 
of it in that light — the instructress of this friendless and 
untutored girl. Whether they were riding, or boating, or 
roaming on foot through the woods, she was delivering a 
series of peripatetic lectures, — which, though entirely im- 
provised and without systematic arrangement, were, as re- 
gards the edification they afforded and their refining influ- 
ence on the audience, far above the stolen thunder which 
is hurled forth in the vaunted lyceums of certain sections 
by the conceited Jovelings of the present day. 

The most frequent topic, however, and one on which 
Isabella delighted particularly to dwell, was the history 
and existing condition of her native country. That this 
subject was constantly nearest her heart, it is to be hoped 
the reader has already seen and believed ; and that she 
should think it of no ordinary interest to her guest seems 
surely reasonable when we take into account her belief 
that the latter’s father, and perhaps her lover, were on the 
march to do battle in behalf of that country. And when 
she found that Filly listened to her favorite theme with 
the most intense interest, this discovery only incited her 
to set forth still more eloquently the sufferings and wrongs 
so long endured by her fellow-citizens,- — wholly ignorant. 


276 MORE THAN SHE COUEE BEAR. 

all the time, of the fact, that, even had Filly a father, and 
had that father been enlisted in the cause, her own be- 
trothed — but alas, not her beloved! —who likewise was in 
the patriot ranks, was far dearer to the girl than any father 
could be — that around him circled alike all her thoughts 
by day and all her dreams by night 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

In his grave 
Assure thyself my love is buried. 

Two Gonjtlemen of Veronu, 

I see some sparkles of a better hope. 

King Richard IL 

Go seek him; tell him I would speak with him. 

As Yon Like It. 

0 ^^ E evening, the Sehorita and her companion were re- 
clining, side by side, in the hammock, discussing the 
prospects of the campaign which was then being initiated. 

“Suppose,” said Filly, after they had talked a good 
while, “ our army, or a part of it, should be captured: what 
do you think would be their fate? ” 

She said their fate — -but she thought, his fate. 

“Filly, don’t let us think of that — rather let us think 
of a brighter ending. I cannot bear even to imagine them 
in the hands of such cruel foes as those Gachupins are; 
for, if not murdered outright, — as I have already told you 
was the fate of my father and so many of our noblest lead- 
ers, — they would no doubt be doomed to drag out, in dun- 
geons, or the scarcely less dreadful mines, such wretched 
lives as might well make them pray for death to relieve 
them.” 


MORE THAX SHE CODLH BEAR. 277 


The speaker, as she said this, was thinking of Quere- 
taro’s horrors, which she had witnessed ; and as they came 
so vividly back upon her memory, she shuddered through 
her whole frame. 

“ Don’t let us think of it,” she repeated : “ it is too 
horrible! ” 

‘‘ You shudder, Sefiorita, at the mere thought of any one 
being thrown into a Mexican prison. And I don’t won- 
der, for I shuddered once myself, on hearing a poor pris- 
oner, who had escaped from one of them, tell his sad story. 
It was, indeed, so dreadful, that I would n’t let him go on 
with it, but begged him to — ” 

‘^You heard a — When? — Where? — Who?” exclaimed 
the Senorita, starting suddenly to her elbow, and manifest- 
ing such intense interest in her friend’s words, that the 
latter, wholly at a loss to account for it, became, for a little 
while, quite disconcerted, and could make no reply. 

Perceiving this, Isabella, with great effort, suppressed her 
excitement somewhat, and said, with an air of comparative 
calmness, though she was still perceptibly affected : 

“Filly, when did you see such a prisoner?” then added, 
by way of explanation, “ I had a friend once, who escaped 
from a Mexican prison : I have never since been able to 
hear anything of him. This very person may have been 
my friend.” 

“ Well,” replied Filly, “ I saw him about three years 
ago.” 

“ Where?” asked the other, eagerly. 

“ He came into our camp. He was so broken down by 
his terrible journey in escaping, that he lay ill there a 
long time.” 

Filly here recited to the Senorita the bare outlines of 
what she had done for the poor sufferer ; and so far from 
according herself justice with regard to the vservice, v.diich, 
21 


278 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

although a mere child, she had rendered him in her volun- 
tary capacity of nurse, in his helpless — well-nigh hope- 
less — condition, she chose not to dwell on the affecting 
details of such kindly attentions, as he lay, through many 
long weeks of fever and delirium, writhing and groaning- 
in the Chief’s tent, which the latter had given up wholly 
for his accommodation. In a word, it was to her untiring 
care and devotion that he owed his life. 

If Isabella, for any reason, really wished to keep her 
secret from her companion, it was well for her that the 
shades of twilight now veiled her face. To be sure, she 
had succeeded in bringing under control her voice, which 
at first had trembled, and indeed almost wholly failed her, 
and she had likewise in a great measure repressed certain 
outward signs of eagerness, which, at the outset of this im- 
pending development, she had betrayed, — but a ghostly 
pallor still pervaded her countenance, and she was fain to 
keep her hand pressed upon her heart to moderate its fear- 
ful throbbings — signs of her dreadful suspense, which 
Filly, owing to the imperfect light, could know nothing of. 

“What — was his — name?” Isabella managed to falter 
forth, — afraid to ask, yet hoping that the name, which 
was still, as it had been for years, dearer to her than any 
on earth, might, in answer to her inquiry, come from the 
girl’s lips. Had it been so, it had been the sweetest sound 
that ever thrilled her soul. How great, then, was her dis- 
appointment, when Filly said, after a little pause, to ran- 
sack her memory : 

“ Senorita, really, I have forgotten.” 

“ Forgotten !— surely, not forgotten? Would you know 
it if you were to hear it?” 

“I think so. I am almost sure of it. Yes, Senorita, I 
know I would.” 

“Was it King?” demanded Isabella, hanging on the 
reply. 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 279 

“ ^^0 — that was not it.” 

“Not Carlos King? Think again,” she said, heart-sick 
with this sudden extinction of her hope, strangled, like a 
still-born babe, at the very moment of its birth. 

“No, I’m certain that was not his name. His first 
name, I remember perfectly, is a very common one among 
us Americans; it was John — Juan, I believe you call it 
in your language. As I never called him anything else 
but Mr. John, and very seldom heard his other name, I 
have forgotten it. I know it was a rather queer one, 
though ; and I ’m confident, that, if I could only hear it 
pronounced, I should remember it at once.” 

It made no difference now to the Senorita what the name 
was, since she had found it was not Carlos King, — and so 
suddenly did her intense interest in the poor prisoner sub- 
side, that it was even doubtful whether she heard at all the 
last portion of the girl’s answer. She sank back to her 
original position in the hammock, and resigned herself to a 
despair which was far worse than before. It was as when 
the midnight lightning dazzles for an instant our eyes 
which we were straining to discern our way along some 
chasm’s verge, and leaves us in tenfold gloom. But as, 
after the flash, we come again to see a little, until at length 
we are enabled to grope darklingly above the abyss as 
before, so her heart gradually regained its not quite 
rayless condition. 

The two remained in silence many minutes. At length 
the Senorita started up again, as a new gleam (alas, she did 
not know it was a fleeting will-o’-the-wisp !) shot athwart 
her cheerless path. 

“ Did he escape from the Queretaro prison, Filly ? ” she 
asked. 

“No: from Monclova. I have a very distinct recollec- 
tion of that — because I had often heard of Monclova before.” 


280 MORE THAN SHE COUED BEAR. 


This reply quenched again all her hope. She had 
thought it possible that this last name might have been 
assumed, with the view of aiding his disguise whilst 
escaping, and, from policy, .not laid aside, even after he 
reached Gatewood’s camp. But gathering from the girl’s 
answer that this w^as not her prisoner of Q,ueretaro, she dis- 
missed him from her thoughts. 

“ Filly,” said the Senorita, the next evening, as they 
strolled, in a more than usually pensive mood, a short dis- 
tance into the wood, “let ’s sit down here on this log, which 
looks so tempting with its mossy cushion : I wish to have a 
little talk with you on the same subject we were discussing 
yesterday evening.” 

The two accordingly took their seats together on the log. 

“You said you had forgotten the name of the prisoner 
who escaped from Monclova and was so long sick in your 
camp,” the Senorita began. “ But I think, too, you said, 
that, if you were to hear his name, you would know it?” 

“Oh, yes, Senorita, — I should, without the least doubt.” 

“And I suppose, if you w^ere to see it written, you 
could n’t fail to recognize it ? ” 

Of course not.” 

“Then, Filly, glance over this list, — or, rather, read 
carefully every name on it,” — said Isabella, drawing a 
paper from her bosom, unfolding it, and handing it to the 
girl, — “and tell me whether that name is there or not. 
These are the Americans who are enlisted in our cause. 
My uncle, who gave me the list, said it embraced all of 
them.” 

Filly took the paper, and cheerfully addressed herself to 
the task put upon her. It was, however, no easy one ; for, not 
only had the names been carelessly copied, and with evident 
hurry, but the copying had been done with very pale ink. 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 281 


She had, therefore, to give each word a careful mental 
spelling before she could decide whether or not it was the 
one so longed for. 

Isabella watched this slow procedure with much appar- 
ent solicitude, and with a degree of impatience that could 
not have been mistaken by any one watching the workings 
of her face. Long, therefore, before her companion had 
got half through the list, she was on the point of taking it 
from her hand and reading it aloud to her, — which she 
could have done with much more dispatch than the girl 
could decipher them, from the fact that she had already 
gone over them all, from beginning to end, perhaps a score 
of times, since the list had been in her possession. Just 
as she was in the act, however, of seizing upon it with this 
intention. Filly exclaimed, her face betraying the deep in- 
terest which she felt in the matter : 

“There it is! — John Gatley — I remember it so well, 
now that I see it. There, Senorita, John Gatley,” she 
repeated, reaching the list out toward Isabella and pointing 
with her finger to the name. “ Mr. John I used to call 
him. I don’t believe I ever called him Mr. Gatley after 
the first day he told me his name. And I hardly ever 
heard any one else call him that, for it was very seldom 
that any one else saw him while he was sick ; and almost 
as soon as he got well enough to sit up, he left, on one of 
the camp-horses which was given him. It’s hardly any 
wonder, then, that I forgot his name,” she added, apolo- 
getically. “But that’s it — I’m just as certain as I ever 
was of anything in my life. What was your friend’s 
name? I really forget.” 

Seeing that the Senorita, from absent-mindedness, or some 
other cause, was not likely to answer, Filly, after a brief 
rummaging of her memory, was able to recall the other 
name. 

24 * 


282 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


“ Oh, yes — Carlos King. Well, the names are not much 
alike, I must confess.” 

“ No,” said the other, roused from her abstraction at the 
sound of that name ever dear to her. “ But, Filly, it has 
struck me, that he may have gone under an assumed 
name, at that time, for the greater safety it would afford.” 

“But why should he not go back to his own name 
now ? ” asked Filly. 

“ That quite puzzles me,” replied Isabella, “ though it is 
possible he may have some good reason for it.” 

“ I don’t see. what it can be, then,” returned the girl, dis- 
couragingly enough. 

“ Well,” replied the Senorita, “one reason that occurs to 
me, is, if captured in this war, and recognized as the 
escaped prisoner, by means of his name — which I suppose 
has long ago been made known to all the Spanish officials 
— it would probably go much harder with him.” 

“ Yes — there may be something in that. But, then, Se- 
norita, he did n’t escape from the same prison as your — 
friend.” 

Now, Filly had by this time begun to think that this 
unfortunate man must be more than a mere friend; hence, 
her hesitation about whether she might not use a stronger 
word. Indeed, the Senorita, even so long ago as during 
the colloquy of the previous evening, supposed that Filly 
had guessed her secret. She, however, had not chosen to 
make confession of her heart-affairs in so many words, 
though she had, from that time forward, no objection in the 
world to the girl knowing of them if she could manage to 
find them out for herself from any language that might 
escape her lips — from any sign she might give — or from 
any deed she might do — in her endeavors to solve this 
mystery, possibly so vital to her happiness. 

“That is true,” said the* Senorita, dejectedly : “my friend 
escaped from Queretaro.” 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 283 

There was nothing more said for several minutes. 

“ Well, Filly,” resumed Isabella at length, “ I have one 
more question to ask you : your answer to that will deter- 
mine whether I shall ever trouble you again on this subject. 
If the prisoner’s hair was black, or very dark, or if his eyes 
were blue, — he was, beyond all doubt, not the friend I 
seek.” 

“ But,” replied the girl, “his eyes were brown, — and his 
hair was neither black nor very dark.” 

“ What then ? ” 

“ Yellow.” . 

“ Do you mean, golden ? ” demanded Isabella, earnestly. 

“ Oh, yes — golden : that expresses the color exactly.” 

“Are you sure? ” exclaimed Isabella, starting from her 
seat to a position confronting the girl, and leaning forward, 
with a hand on each of the latter’s shoulders, — as though 
resolved to catch every syllable she might utter. 

“I’m quite sure, Senorita; for, one day, when he had 
begun to recover, and I was combing his hair, and trying 
to get the tangles out — for it was very long and wavy — 
the sun came out from behind a cloud and shone through 
it. I had never seen hair like it before, and I recollect so 
well, I said to him, ‘Mr. John, your hair looks just like 
gold.’ ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I believe it does, when a sun- 
beam gets tangled in it.’ ” 

“His very hair!” exclaimed Isabella, sinking back 
again to her seat on the log. “ Oh, it may be Carlos yet ! ” 

“ But how can it be, Senorita, when he bears an al- 
together different name, and escaped from a different 
prison ? ” 

“I do not know. Oh, Filly, for mercy’s sake, don’t 
crush to death what little hope I have! No — no — let 
me still hope, if I can — though ever so little.” 

But the girl’s reason for not regarding the matter in a 


284 MORE THA2? SHE COULD BEAR. 

more encouraging ligiit, was by no means because sbe 
sought to destroy the Senorita’s hopeful prospects : she would 
have done almost anything to bless her. It was because 
this w’as such joyful news for herself as well, that she could 
not believe it true. And it was joyful news, for the reason, 
that, should her rival’s former lover — for lover she, by 
this time, firmly believed him to be — come, and bear her 
off, Senor might yet restore her to her olden place in his 
affections. 

“ Now, Filly, to find out whether this is so or not : how 
can it be done ? ” 

“ How can it be done ? ” echoed the girl, with an eager- 
ness that might well have surprised the other, had her 
thoughts not been so intensely preoccupied. “ Oh, if I 
could only help you to do thaty Senorita ! ” 

“ I think you can help me,” said the Senorita, with a 
calmness that was truly marvellous when compared with 
her recent exhibition of feeling ; for now she found, that, 
before there could be any hope of success, clear, unbiassed 
judgment must be brought to bear upon this question of 
how to do the thing, — while all bewildering emotion must 
be laid aside. “Miguel has just returned from Natchi- 
toches, and in questioning him for news — as you know I 
always do when he has been to town — I learned that all 
the American volunteers leave Natchitoches to-morrow 
morning, at a very early hour, on their march to Texas. 
As they are infantry, noon, or a little after, will probably 
be the time they will pass near here. Now’, if you will onlv 
ride out to the main road, station yourself there, and eye 
them closely as they file along, you will no doubt see Mr. 
Gatley. Should you know him now. Filly, think you ? ” 

“ Know him, indeed ! To be sure : I shall never forget 
that face.” 

“ Call him aside ; and when you shall get to where none 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


285 


may hear you, and after you have told him who you are, 

if he does not recognize you, which he may not do, as you 
were a mere child when he saw you last, — whisper in his ear 
the name — not this name here on the list, but the old 
name I told you of — you know what it is. It will be a 
talisman that will probably make him betray himself to 
you on the spot, even if he should be loth to put off his dis- 
guise. And, Filly, should it be he — you — you will know 
what to do then. Will you do this much for me? ” 

“Oh, yes — I will — to be sure I will: I’ll do anything — 
anything ! ” 

Filly perhaps never made a promise more willingly than 
this one ; and when the hour of noon approached, she 
never started forth more cheerfully to do another’s bidding. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

If this be so, as yet the glass seems true, 

I shall have share in this most happy work. 

Twelfth Night. 

The image of it gives me content already, and I trust it will grow to 
a most prosperous perfection. — Pleasure for Measure, 

M ounted on Isabella’s pony, and accompanied, 
of course, by Grim, Filly soon reached the road. 
Scarcely had she selected a point favorable for viewing the 
men as they should pass, before she thought she could dis- 
tinguish, coming from towards the town, the roll of a still 
distant drum. Only a few minutes more were required to 
confirm fully her opinion as to the nature of the sound. 
She seated herself at the root of a tree, and awaited the 


286 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


crisis with what patience she could command. In less than 
an hour, the sound had come so near, that she found her- 
self straining her eyes to catch the first glimpse of the col- 
umn, as'it should emerge, at the nearest turn in the road, 
from behind the woods which, as yet, concealed it from her 
view. Presently, the thin outskirts of a dust-cloud floated 
slowly around the turn ; and ere the maiden’s throbbing 
heart had told ten more pulsations, the head of the column 
appeared. Soon it came quite abreast of her station ; and 
as they marched past, many a glance was turned upon 
this fairy apparition and the canine giant who attended 
her, — many a comment was made complimentary of her 
beauty, — and many words of wonder as to who she could 
be, were exchanged. They probably thought her the 
daughter of some adventurous Daniel Boone who had set- 
tled hereabouts. 

Filly, however, did not observe their glances — did not 
heed, nor even hear, their words. She was wholly intent 
on the one object which had brought her there — to subject 
to the closest scrutiny every face that passed. When about 
half the column had gone by, a halt was ordered, that all 
might rest awhile under the shade ; for it was the month 
of June, and the mid-day sun beat down on them with 
oppressive heat. They accordingly broke ranks, — some 
seating themselves beneath the trees by the road side, to 
converse, or laugh and joke, — others penetrating into the 
woods, and perching themselves on fallen trees, or stretch- 
ing out their limbs at ease, — some in groups, others soli- 
tary, — on the dead leaves that covered the earth, to medi- 
tate, peradventure, on the momentous undertaking before 
them, which they fondly imagined was to result in the 
founding of a new nation, or the re -modelling of an old 
one, on the immortal principles that they had been so well 
taught by their fathers how to maintain, ' 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 287 


It was one of these last, that Filly — catching hut a partial 
sight of him at a distance, through the growth of the forest 
— took to be the one whom she was in search of ; and on ap- 
proaching him (leading her horse) as he lay leaning on his 
elbow, apart from the rest and quite out of their sight, she 
recognized him as, beyond all question, the man she had 
nursed three years before through a long and dangerous 
illness. 

When he left the camp, the traces of disease were still 
visible on his person — his form was somewhat bent — his 
step was still -languid, and his face pale and haggard. 
Even in that forlorn condition the girl — making due 
allowance for such disadvantages — had been greatly im- 
pressed with his appearance. But now when she came 
suddenly upon him in full possession of health and vigor, 
she found him a man of no common mould as regards both 
symmetry of person and manly beauty of face. By this 
time, however, she was too much interested and excited by 
the prospects opening before her, to make any very partic- 
ular note of his prepossessing points. 

Discovering her approach, he rose to his feet, and by the 
act — gracefully done — a tall, straight, well-knit figure 
was displayed to the greatest advantage. His long, auburn 
hair swept his shoulders. He had before taken off his cap 
to admit to his heated brow the ever cool air of those deep 
shades. His forehead was a noble one, broad, and high, 
and beetling — as though a very fortress of thought. A 
silky, brown beard decorated the lower part of his face and 
hung far down over his deep muscular chest. 

As the girl drew very near him, still leading her horse, 
his large eyes, of a dark hazel hue, beamed on her mildly 
enough, but, also, with an expression made up of wonder 
and surprise. 

‘‘Mr. Gatley,” she began, seeing she was not recognized, 
“ I reckon you don’t know me,” 


288 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

“ I do not,” he replied, in deep rich tones, as he stepped 
forward. “Is it some one I ought to know?” 

“You certainly ought, sir, if I had not changed so: I 
•was but a little thing when you saw me last. But perhaps 
if I were to call you Mr. John, you would — ” 

“Oh, it’s Filly!” he exclaimed, seizing her in his arms, 
and before she could prevent it — if she would have done 
so — imprinting a kiss on her cheek, doubtless regarding 
her — as she lived in his recollection — a mere child. 

The girl flushed at this, and stepping back and looking 
just a little bit dignified, said : 

“ Mr. Gatley, you forget that I am a woman now.” 

“Oh, I beg pardon. Filly,” he said, somewhat confused 
under the gentle rebuke. “ Why, you do begin to look like 
a woman, sure enough. I really forgot that you could 
ever get to be one — you were so small then. You were 
large enough, though, to save my life. Filly ; for I shall 
always think you did that, and shall never cease to be 
grateful to you for it.” 

He said this with an expression of gratitude on his face, 
— which was evidently such a face as glasses forth the 
soul of its possessor, whatever the feeling by which he may 
be swayed, or however slight that feeling may be. Love 
could languish there, and resentment could flush, — sensi- 
bility could shrink, — pity weep, — and, doubtless, humor 
could twinkle, too, in happier days, for all these were in 
his soul — and much more — and his face was its faithful 
mirror. 

“I am delighted to see you once more,” he went on. 
“ IIow have you been? where have you been? Tell me all 
about yourself, little girl. Don’t look so grave — you used 
to be so gay, and that helped much to save me, when I lay 
moaning and raving in that tent. Where is Captain — ” 

“ Mr. John — Mr. Gatley, rather — do you know Carlos 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 289 


King?” she interrupted, just at the point when she knew 
he was going to inquire for Gatewood, at the same time 
looking steadfastly at him, as though she would read the 
least change which the question might produce in his 
countenance. 

For an instant he seemed at a loss what to do or say. It 
was, however, only an instant. 

“Yes,” he replied: “he is — or perhaps I should say, 
was — a friend of mine,” 

“ Why, ‘ was’ ? ” 

“ Because they say he is dead.” 

“ Do you know that he is dead ? ” 

“I do not; but I know he was one of Nolan’s men, as I 
was myself, and was captured with the rest of us, and 
thrown into some dungeon in Mexico. This I have always 
thought equivalent to death, unless one gets away, and I 
am i^erhaps the only one of Nolan’s little band that 
escaped. So you can draw your own inference as to 
whether he is still living or not. But, Filly, why are you 
so desirous to know something about King, that you have 
perhaps sought me out for this very purpose? ” 

“ I have sought you out expressly to learn his fate, Mr. 
John,” replied the girl. “Glad as I am to meet you again, 
I should n’t have thought of coming here, in this way — 
among all these men, too — just for that.” 

“ Was he a friend of yours ? ” 

“Oh no — I never saw him in my life.” 

“ That ’s strange, indeed. Does what you have to say 
concern him much ? ” 

“ It ought to, I think ; and it certainly concerns some 
one else very deeply.” 

“Some one else!” echoed Gatley, evidently getting 
much interested for his friend. King. “ Who is that?*' 

“As you know nothing of the gentleman, Mr. John, and 


290 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

may never see him again — in fact, as you think him dead, 
and cannot possibly see him any more to tell him, I don’t 
know that I ought to betray his secret to you, particularly 
as it is the secret of another person, too — one you most 
likely never saw, or even heard of.” 

“ ‘ His secret ’ — and ‘ the secret of another,’ ” said Gat- 
ley, in low tones, and looking down, as though he said it to 
himself. “ What can all that mean ? 

“ I did n’t tell you I thought him dead. Filly,” he said, 
breaking off his reverie and raising his eyes from the 
ground. “ I merely told you he was a prisoner in Mexico, 
and I always regarded that as much the same as being 
dead.” 

“It seems to me there’s not much difference between 
saying that, and saying you thought him dead,” persisted 
the girl. 

“ Well, the difference is, I may possibly see my friend 
some day — that ’s all.” 

“ In fact,” he went on, after a brief pause, “ I not only 
know that he is alive, but have every reason to think I 
shall see him again — indeed, I am almost certain of it.” 

“Soon?” 

“Yes — soon.” 

“Why, Mr. John, I don’t see how you can be certain 
about seeing him again : you may never return from this 
war — you may be killed.” 

“ Filly, my friend is with this little army now.” 

“ He is f Oh, Mr. John ! why could n’t you tell me that 
before, and allow me the chance of speaking with him ? ” 
said the girl, somewhat irritated. “I’m afraid it’s too 
late now ; there ’s the drum beating for a start. Show him 
to me — will you? before they go — please!” she said, 
suddenly changing her tone to a pleading key. 

“ I did n’t tell you before, that he was here. Filly, be- 


MOilE THAN SHE COULD BEAD. 291 

cause I knew he had particular reasons for not being rec- 
ognized. He is in disguise, and is not known as Carlos 
King, even to his comrades in arms. I am the only per- 
son here who knows him as such. In truth, I have the 
best grounds for thinking that no one in the world but 
myself knows him to be living ; and you must see that it 
would hardly be right to betray his trust without sufficient 
cause. If, however, you will say, that what you have to 
tell him is, beyond all manner of doubt, of great impor- 
tance to him, I think I may venture to introduce him to 
you.’' 

It is of such importance,” replied the girl, “ that he 
will rejoice over it the rest of his life — be that short or 
long.” 

Gatley looked down at the dead leaves which lay strewn 
at his feet, and seemed to study for a moment. 

“ But, Mr. John,” replied the girl, with persistent in- 
credulity, “ I hardly know how to believe that Mr. King is 
with this army : I saw a full list of the names yesterday, 
and his was not among them,” 

“His name,” replied the soldier, “is just wherein he has 
disguised himself. In everything else he is the same.” 

“ And, pray, what name did he take ? I think you 
fnight tell me, Mr. John, before they all go : they are start- 
ing now^ 

“ John Gatley.” 

The girl looked at him in utter bewilderment. 

“ Are you Carlos King, then?” 

“ I ’ra the man. Filly. Now what is it you have to tell 
me?” 

“ Oh, Mr. John ! ” she exclaimed, springing forward, 
and seizing his hand in both her own, and at the same 
time looking fixedly in his face, — “are you, really and 
truly?” 


292 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

“Yes. Now tell me: for, see! they have all started, 
and I have but little time to listen. I am the pleader 
now.’’ 

This sudden discovery — that she had so thoroughly 
succeeded in her mission — embarrassed the girl to such an 
extent that she scarcely knew where to begin, nor, indeed, 
the substance of what to say after she should have begun. 
She tried hard, though vainly, to recall the programme 
laid down for her by the Senorita — though heretofore she 
had not once thought of it, but had been conducting the 
affair, all along, according to her own notions, and meet- 
ing emergencies, as they arose, with her own resources. 

“ The Sefiorita — ” she at length managed to say, but 
could get no further. 

“Well?” said Gatley, calmly enough, though by no 
means uninterested. 

“The Senorita — Isabella — ” she faltered forth; then 
stopped, — possibly with a vague notion that he would, in 
some way, come to her relief. 

He did come. He forthwith took up her disjointed 
words, and put them together. 

“The Senorita Isabella?” he exclaimed, seizing the 
girl’s arms, and looking intensely into the face close be- 
fore his own. “ Isabella what ? Tell me the name : for 
heaven’s sake! do you mean — ” 

“ Isabella Delgado.” 

“ What of her ? — What of her ? I say ! ” 

“She is here.” 

''She here?” he cried, releasing the girl, and looking 
around in every direction, as though he expected his be- 
loved to start from behind some bush, and,2)mto, rush into 
his arms. 

“ I don’t mean just here,” explained Filly, observing 
his earnest search, “She’s at the lake,” 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 293 


“The lake? What lake? Where is the lake, Filly ? 
how far?” 

“ Only a mile or two.” 

“Oh, show me the way : guide me to her ! ” 

“ I will,” she said, as, with his assistance, she leaped on 
her horse. 

They forthwith started off — he walking by her side. — 
Grim trudging along in the rear. 

As may well be believed, the two were not long on their 
way. During the time thus occupied, but little was said. 
Each was too busy thinking either to question, or to vol- 
unteer information to the other. Filly was absorbed in 
reflecting on the importance to her of the development just 
made, and in speculating, in detail, on the prospects which 
it would secure her. To be sure, she did not altogether 
lose sight of the happiness which must accrue to her 
friend, the Senorita ; but where she spent one thought on 
this result, she lavished a hundred on the other. 

King, for his part, thought, at first, only of the joy of 
meeting with his long-lost sweetheart. The mere anticipa- 
tion of this was sufficient to fill his breast to the exclusion 
of everything else, until they had made, probably, half the 
distance. By that time he began to rally a little from the 
ecstatic shock, and to reduce to something like order, the 
emotional hurly-burly, of which his palpitating heart was 
the centre. 

“ What could have brought her to live in such a howling 
wilderness as this ? ” he asked himself, and not getting any 
satisfactory answer from within, he addressed to the girl a 
query of the same purport. 

In replying, she did not enter into particulars ; for, in 
that case, much would have had to be said about Gatewood’s 
agency in the matter, — and that was a subject on which 
25 * 


294 MOBE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

she was always loth to speak. In fact, she never men- 
tioned his name to any one whatever, when it was possible 
to avoid it. 

“ She was driven from her home by the Spaniards,^* 
said the girl. 

“So I supposed. But why should she stop here? why 
didn’t she make her way to the United States — to Natchi- 
toches, at least ? ” 

“ I believe,” replied Filly, “that the few vacant houses in 
town were filled by refugees from Mexico and Texas, before 
she got there. A gentleman, who had just built on the 
lake, heard of this and ofiered her his house : so she con- 
cluded to live there.” 

“ Who was with her in her flight ? ” 

“ Her uncle and her brother.” 

“ Not her parents? ” 

“No — they are both dead. Her father was killed 
during the war, and her mother died soon afterwards.” 

The tender-hearted girl shrank from telling him the 
whole dreadful truth, as she had heard it from the Seno- 
rita — that both of them had been murdered, — the one 
directly, — the other indirectly. 

“ Are her uncle and brother still with her?” 

“ They are not. They started, two or three w^eeks ago, 
for Texas, with the advance of the patriot army.” 

“ Filly, surely you don’t mean to say she is living in 
these wilds alone ? ” 

“ With only an old Mexican and his wife — as servants. 
Then, I have been staying with her ever since the army left. 
Oh, Mr. John, there’s no danger at all while Grim’s 
about,” said she, looking behind at the dog. “ Don’t you 
remember Grim, sir.” 

“Yes — I remember him now, Filly, — since you called 
my attention to him ; but I had not really noticed before 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 295 


that there was a dog along with us. Grim is a great dog, 
and, no doubt, some little protection ; but I don’t like to 
see ladies expose themselves in such lonely places as this, 
where so many terrible things may befall them. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

Our hearts wear feathers, that before wore lead. 

The Ranger^ s Tragedy. 

My stay must be stolen out of other affairs. 

Measure for Measure. 

I SABELLA, about the tima she thought Filly ought to 
be coming back, took her station at the open window 
of her room, facing in the direction the latter would 
return. She had in her hand, when she first sat down, a 
recently opened letter and some newspapers, which she had 
probably been reading, or at least making some effort to 
do so. These, however, soon dropped to the floor, from 
her lap, where she had placed them soon after taking her 
seat. 

Although she had scarcely the shadow of a hope that 
the girl would bring her any good tidings on the subject 
most engrossing her thoughts, — that little so affected her, 
that she could not keep her eyes, for a single moment, 
from the fond task of peering along the leafy vistas to 
catch the first glimpse of Pony’s head. After a while, 
however, she drew forth the army-list from her bosom, 
and for a few moments it divided her attention with the 
anxious lookout. She ran over the list about the twen- 
tieth time since it had been in her possession, to see if she 
could find on it any name bearing resemblance to her 


296 M O R E T II A X S H E C O U L D B E A R . 


lover’s. Although there was no such name as King to be 
found — as has already been said — there were several 
Charleses ; and, as Carlos is the Spanish of Charles, she 
inspected these closely, one by one, to ascertain whether or 
not any of them had a family name bearing even the re- 
motest resemblance to his. But there was none. 

She next looked wistfully at the name of John Gatley, 
as though she hoped to find in that something, which, if 
assumed as a disguise, her lover might have left as a clue 
to his original name, to the end that she, at least, if no one 
else, might be enabled to unravel it. But there was noth- 
ing of the kind to be seen. 

“ Only one letter of Charles in the first name,” she mur- 
mured in a very low tone, — “ and not even a trace of King 
in the last. It cannot, then, be Carlos : he would n’t have 
had the cruelty to blot out his name so completely, that I 
inay thus read it over and over, and yet never know it from 
that of a stranger.” 

Despite these dreary words, however, — which showed 
how much she despaired of the girl bringing her any good 
news, — her anxiety for the latter’s arrival, so far from 
diminishing, seemed to grow as the minutes went by, — 
until, at last, either because she thought that the shifting 
of her situation and the consequent change in her surround- 
ings, might tend to relieve her suspense a trifle, or for the 
purpose of getting where she could see, a little sooner, 
whatever of good or ill might be in store for her, she left 
the house and strolled along the path she had been so in- 
tently watching. After going some distance, she sat down 
at the root of a tree, on the dead, dry leaves, of the last 
year’s growth, and with ears attent, listened for the sound 
of the horse’s feet, which she knew must herald Filly’s 
approach, — for there, where the woods were dense, and 
the path — as all by-paths are — tortuous, the ear could 
distinguish much fiirther than the eye. 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


297 


In a few minutes, she heard the long wished-for sound, — 
and with it her heart set to throbbing as though it would 
burst its bounds. In a little while more. Filly, on the 
pony, emerged into view around a turn in the path ; and 
with the same glance, the anxious watcher saw at the girl’s 
side, and recognized him on the instant, her long-sought 
lover. As she was a little distance off the path along 
which they were coming, they did not see her, until, rising 
suddenly from her position and starting forward, she gave 
a faint scream, and sank down at once on the earth, quite 
unconscious. 

This sudden joy, after long years of separation, intensi- 
fied as it was by its contrast with the intermediate suspense 
and suffering, and at length despair, had proved too much 
for a highly impressible system, sensitive alike to all the 
extremes of emotion. How strange, at times, is the womanly 
nature! We may readily understand that, when woe, or 
terror, or utter despair comes on one of the gentler sex, she 
should close her sight against them all in the transient 
death of a swoon. But strange it is, that, when so near 
the goal of her one, life-long hope, — out of which all other 
hopes are born, and around which, after their birth, they 
all revolve like lesser stars, living by it, and through it, 
and for it alone, — full strange it is, that she should then 
draw down the curtain of her eyes and shut out the joyous 
sight : nay — that she should glide off into a dark, dreary, 
unexplored realm, nor take with her so much as a thought, 
or a memory, or a dream, of what is, or was, or is to be 1 
King, hastening his steps, was soon with her. Throwing 
himself on the ground close by her side in a half recumbent 
posture, he leaned over her, looking fondly in her death- 
pale face — watching for the first opening of her eyes. 
Now and then, he pressed his lips to hers, as though to 
confirm, by that exquisite prerogative of a lover, the 


298 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


evidence of her presence, afraid to believe what his sight 
alone so plainly told him — that this was indeed no dream, 
which might, on waking, vanish into air, and leave him 
desolate again. 

Filly, at first, stood by, marking, with intense interest, 
all that occurred. She had often read, in novels, of hero- 
ines fainting, and wondered how in the world they man- 
aged it so opportunely; and had quite as often come to 
the conclusion, that she herself would never make a hero- 
ine, in so far as it might depend in her going off in the 
style therein depicted. But it became an altogether differ- 
ent matter when she saw the genuine thing enacted here 
right before her face, — saw the workings of the causes 
which led to it, — the evident intensity of the emotions en- 
listed, together with the unmistakable suffering attendant 
upon the immediate act itself. Putting herself in Isabella’s 
place, and “ Senor^’ in King’s, she thought it would be no 
very difficult feat to die off* in pretty much the same way, 
should anything have occurred to make her believe, for 
three or four long years, that her lover was dead, and then 
should he come rushing, in this particular manner, to her 
arms. 

Oh, Carlos!” said the Senorita, in a low whisper, — 
which was, at that time, as loud as her faint breath could 
afford, — slowly opening her eyes and gazing for a moment 
full in his face, as though assuring herself that it was 
indeed her lover, — then closing them again with very 
exhaustion. He said nothing — did nothing beyond kiss- 
ing her again — this time, with a more lingering pressure 
in the contact, because he knew that his previous kisses 
had been but wasted on unconscious lips, — and knew now 
that there was to be no more such wasting. 

Up to this time. Filly had been looking on with the 
most artless simplicity, inspired solely by her sympathy 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


299 


with the parties more immediately concerned. No sooner, 
however, did she see the Senorita open her eyes in evident 
consciousness of what was going on, than it struck her that 
she herself was hardly doing just the right thing in linger- 
ing here. Not having, as a guide in such matters, the 
force of education and habit, which would have made her 
shrink at once from longer witnessing so tender a scene, 
she had to resort again to her usual circuitous test, of 
putting herself in the Senorita’s place. 

“ The bare idea,” she thought at last, “of any one stand- 
ing by and looking on when Senor had me in his arms, 
any time after my childhood.” 

Then, as if to make the impression stronger on her own 
mind, she recalled that particular instance given in a pre- 
vious chapter, where they had their last meeting in the 
woods, — when, after making her weep with words uninten- 
tionally cruel, he pacified her with fond caresses and sought 
to make, in some sort, amends for his broken faith, by de- 
ceptive promises. 

As soon as she saw the impropriety of lingering here as 
a third party in a sort of matter that is always so much 
better for having but two, she turned away to the house — 
the pony, which, in the excitement, she had released, having 
already moved leisurely on in that direction, so far as to 
be quite out of sight. 

Now, while Filly was undoubtedly right about this, and 
while it was very considerate in her to get out of the way 
on so delicate an occasion, yet it must be owned that her 
presence was not felt by the lovers to be, in the least, em- 
barrassing, — and this, for the very good reason that they 
did not once think of her, nor indeed of anybody else in all 
the wide world, but their own two dear selves. The girl 
had therefore little difficulty in getting away unnoticed, 
and none the less that she glided stealthily off on tiptoe, as 


300 MORE THAK SHE COULE BEAE» 

though apprehensive that her footfall in the rustling, dry 
leaves might attract their attention. Ah ! she did not 
know that each was so filled with the other, that even a 
small earthquake might have “ reeled unheedediy away.” 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly scratched. 

All ’s Well That Ends Well, 

I SABELLA soon opened her eyes again. Her lover had 
already taken her head on his lap, and was now smooth- 
ing out her dishevelled hair, and gently stroking her blue- 
veined temple, and her rounded cheek, into which the 
blood was flooding fast back. As yet, they said but little : 
and why should they ? Surely, words were worse than use- 
less while their conscious eyes were exchanging such elo- 
quent looks. To see each other — touch each other — was 
enough : the tongue could have added no joy to this — at 
least, until the appetite of sight and touch — so sharply 
set by long separation — should be somewhat appeased. 

At length, quite rallying, the Senorita rose partly from 
the ground, and seating herself by her lover’s side on the 
mossy roots, leaned back against the tree, while his arm 
encircled her tenderly about. Then, as a matter of course, 
came divers fond words and caresses — of which it is by 
no means certain the reader has any right to know the 
particulars, and which, at any rate, it were more discreet to 
withhold, — for should he be one of the warm-blooded sort, 
the detailing of such endearments might excite his envy — 
if one of the cold-blooded, his disgust. Suffice it to say, in 
general terms, that, given the kind of lovers, all wooing — 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 301 


wliicli is really lieart-felt, and not based on gold, or blood, 
or station — goes on in much the same old familiar style, 
whether amid the rude environments of the wilderness, 
or the luxurious refinements of cities — except that it may 
be, as regards outward appearances, a trifle more under 
restraint in the latter situation than where everything 
around encourages the more natural procedure. 

This brief foretaste over, of the heaven they had long ago 
limned forth for themselves, they began gradually to talk 
about what had happened to them since their parting at 
Queretaro. These preliminary allusions to that eventful 
period of their lives, led soon to a request on the part of 
the Senorita that her lover should give her a connected 
account of his escape, and of his subsequent career. 

“ It was a hard journey — that thousand miles,” he said, 
sadly, heaving a deep sigh at the thought of it, — “but 
what will a man not do for his liberty, — particularly with 
the terrors of such a dungeon as mine constantly pursuing 
him ? I could, of course, move only by night ; and many * 
wretched nights did I pass, often hungry and cold, and, 
before I reached my journey’s end, well-nigh naked, and 
quite defenceless against the pelting storm. But when 
made almost desperate by such suffering, as I often was, I 
could at any time stimulate myself to renewed exertion by 
reflecting that such nights of torture, bad as they we>e, 
sank into nothing in comparison with the night of that 
prison to which I should be remanded — or to one as 
hideous — if captured again. 

“In trying to keep to the most unfrequented ways, I 
became bewildered, and at length hopelessly lost, on the 
barren plains of Coahuila. Up to this time, I had sub- 
sisted myself with great difficulty by begging at the hovels 
of the lowest classes of the country, who I knew were 
26 


802 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


themselves so cruelly oppressed by the Gachupins that 
they would not be likely to betray me, — and glad enough 
was I to get a share even of their miserable food. But it 
was infinitely worse for me on those fearful plains ; for not 
only were there no habitations there, of any kind, but both 
animal and vegetable life was so rare a thing, that I was 
soon on the very verge of starvation. 

“ At length, after many days of torture, I lay down to 
die by the bank of a little river that made its way through 
barren sands. I had lain there but a short time, however, 
when an unoccupied canoe came floating past me. With 
the exception of your own appearance before my grate in 
Queretaro, this was the most providential-looking object I 
ever beheld. It had most probably got loose from some 
of the savage tribes who roamed the more favored upland, 
many miles away. Putting forth all my strength, I 
plunged into the stream, and struck out to overtake it ; 
but in my enfeebled condition it gained so rapidly on me, 
that I grew desperate, gave up the pursuit, and was led to 
consider whether I should make for the shore again, to 
die there a lingering death, or seek a more speedy relief by 
sinking beneath the wave. Just then the canoe ran on a 
little island, only a few feet in extent, where it lodged — 
bow on — swayed to and fro by the current. I exerted 
myself once more ; but just as I was about to grasp the 
prize, the wave which my own motion had pushed before 
me, struck the stern, and whirling it around, cleared it of 
the island. Once more I abandoned the attempt,— for the 
stream from this point was very rapid, and I knew I could 
not overtake the canoe when once fairly in the current. 
But to my joy, the eddy which played below the island 
was strong enough to draw it within its vortex, and it was 
while whirling around in this little circuit that I rushed 
forward and boarded it. 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


303 


“ I found nothing in the canoe but a paddle and a single 
ear of corn. On this slender stock of provisions, grain by 
grain, I kept myself alive, while I used the paddle with 
what strength I had remaining, to keep the canoe in the 
current. My object was to move onward as rapidly as 
possible, trusting to chance to bring me into a fertile re- 
gion, or perhaps to the Gulf, where some friendly sail 
might possibl}’’ be found to bear me away. I stopped nei- 
ther night nor day. When overcome by drowsiness, I 
would lay the paddle aside and sink down in sleep, allow- 
ing the current still to carry me on. 

“ On the second day, when my last grain of corn had 
been eaten, I succeeded in catching a lizard, which I de- 
voured raw. On the third day a turtle shared the same 
fate and served the same purpose. Just before the fourth 
night closed in, I fancied I could see some slight signs of a 
stinted vegetation in the distance. Hoping, as I did, that 
the next dawn would find me in a more favored section, 
when it came, in order to realize that hope, I strained my 
eyes with an anxiety to which that felt by Columbus when 
he expected the break of day would show him a new world 
must have been slight in comparison, — for should I be 
disappointed in this, the close of that day would probably 
show me a new world indeed, and one for which I felt but 
ill prepared. 

“During the glimmering twilight of that morning, — 
which in that latitude must have lasted only a few min- 
utes, but which seemed to me as many hours, — I saw, or 
imagined I saw, clumps of trees looming up between me. 
and the dim horizon ; and it was but a single step further 
to fancy homes embowered within them. And it was 
even so. Soon I could distinguish the tinkling of bells, 
and in a few minutes more could see flocks dotting the 
country over, as they went slowly forth to their early 


304 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

browsing. Cocks began to crow. Dogs to bark. Cattle 
to low. On sight of the first smoke curling upward from 
a lowly cot, telling that the inmates were stirring, I 
leaped ashore, and made my way thither by dragging my- 
self along on the earth — for by this time I was too near 
starvation to walk. They gave me food, and took care of 
me until I was strong enough to start forth again. They 
had told me I was almost within sight of the Gulf, but that 
there were no ports on this part of the coast, and of course 
there could be no ships in which I might hope to escape. 
I therefore set out again by land — as before, daring to move 
only by night. 

“ I had almost reached the borders of Texas, when, dark- 
ling along a mountain-path — for I was now in a wild and 
craggy country — by a few steps in the wrong direction, I 
fell over a precipice into the road beneath. The fall broke 
one of my legs, and of course I could not stir. Unfortu- 
nately for me, a detachment of Spanish soldiers were the 
first who passed along. The commanding officer at once 
recognized me as one of Nolan’s men. He said he had 
seen us six years before as we passed through one of the 
neighboring towns on our way to prison. Mangled as I 
was, the officer had the heartlessness to order me to be 
placed on a horse behind one of their number; and 
thus, with my shattered limb dangling by the animal’s 
side, while the ends of the broken bone grated together at 
every step, they conveyed me to the nearest village. There 
I was kept under strict guard, and when able to walk was 
inarched to Monclova, where, for a year, I languished in a 
cell only a degree less hideous than that of Queretaro. 

“ With a knife-blade, which I found in a mound of filth 
that had accumulated during the occupancy of some unfor- 
tunate before me, I tunnelled a way beneath the walls 
after six months’ labor. Through this hole I escaped — 


MORE THAN SHE COUI.D BEAR. 


305 


and then made my way eastward. I soon reached the Rio 
Grande, and crossed into Texas. The next day, I was cap- 
tured by a band of Comanches. From them I had little 
right to expect mercy, for I had often met their brethren 
in deadly conflict on the prairies. But these heathen sav- 
ages showed themselves far more merciful than their proud 
neighbors had done, with all their vaunted Christianity. 
They not only fed me plentifully with the best they had, 
but gave me a blanket, to cover my nakedness, and moccasins 
■for my bleeding feet — then supplied me with food for the 
remainder of my journey, and sent me on my way rejoicing. 

“At last I reached the eastern bank of the Sabine. 
Here I encountered two of the men of the Neutral Ground, 
who, seeing my forlorn condition, conducted me to their 
camp, where their Chief, Captain Gatewood — I shall al- 
ways remember him with gratitude — bade me — 

“My God! Isabella, why do you look so pale? You 
have not recovered from the effects of your swoon. Lie 
down at once, or you will faint again.” 

At the sound of his name with whom she had so lately 
entangled herself in a loveless betrothal, her playing 
blushes checked at once, and left her cheek wan indeed. 
The simple truth is, since she caught sight of the only man 
she had ever loved in all the world, not a single thought 
of the other had crossed her mind. She was so absorbed 
in gazing on this one — listening to his voice, and thrilling 
and blushing beneath his ardent embraces, that she had as 
completely forgotten the grim Chieftain of Neutralia as 
though she had never seen him, or he had never existed. 

“Yes — Ido feel a faintness coming over me again,” she 
said, leaning her head on his breast and hiding her face 
with her hands — ashamed that he should see it. “ I don’t 
need to lie down though : let me but rest here awhile, and 
it will soon pass off.” 


306 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

Who but a damned one could have done like me ? 

Tailor. 

Blame not this haste of mine : if you mean well, 

Now go with me and with this holy man 

Into the chantry by. Twelfth Night. 

A rusted nail plac’d near the faithful compass 
May sway it from the truth and wreck the argosy. 

The Crusade. 

D uring the brief time the Senorita remained in the 
position she had assumed at the close of the last 
chapter, she gave a hurried glance into the abyss, which — 
known full well, but forgotten for an hour — had been as 
suddenly revealed to her by her lover’s words, as is the 
fearful chasm to the benighted mountaineer by a flash 
from heaven. 

For love’s sake alone, she thought it would, beyond 
doubt, be better — infinitely better — to make a clean 
breast of it, and tell him all about that other betrothal, 
and how it came, — and then throw herself on his mercy to 
forgive the deed. But, for her country’s sake this would 
never do: she must delude both her lovers now instead 
of one, as heretofore, — and bide a more auspicious time. 
If she should embrace freedom now, she would lose love, — 
if she should embrace love, she would lose freedom. She 
must wait until both could be hers at once. 

“ There, now,” she said, raising her head from his breast; 
“ I feel better : go on.” 

“ For many weeks I lay ill in camp, where I was known 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


307 


as John Gatley — having assumed that name after I 
escaped from Monclova. And if it had not been for this 
sweet girl — Why,” he said, looking around, “ where has 
she gone? I thought she was with us — or rather, I should 
have thought go, if I had not forgotten all about her. 
Well, she nursed me so faithfully, that I have no doubt 
she saved my life. 

“And what do you think I did next, Isabella?” 

“ I suppose you sought your home, of course.” 

“No — I sought yours.” 

“ Y ou surely did n’t venture to San Antonio ? ” 

“Yes — I did. Captain Gatewood very kindly gave me 
a horse, — thinking, quite naturally, that I wished to go to 
the United States, — and I did not choose to undeceive 
him. Disguising myself, I took my way westward, re- 
solved to see you again, if possible, and to atone for all our 
sufferings by wedding you at once, and taking you to my 
own country — if you would go — where we might spend 
the rest of our days in peace. 

“On my arrival in San Antonio, without making myself 
known, I entered into casual conversation with different 
citizens of the place, and ascertained from them that you 
had been sent to New^ Orleans to school. I started off 
again, and after a ride of nearly a thousand miles, all 
alone, reached that city. There I set myself about finding 
you. After a long search I had the good fortune to meet 
with one of your countrymen — a priest from San Antonio 
— but the exceeding bad fortune to hear from him that 
you had sailed, a few days before, for Vera Cruz, on your 
way to the city of Mexico, to spend the winter with an 
aunt. He told me your friends had advised this change, 
hoping it would restore your health, which he represented 
as failing fast. 

“You may conceive how sad was this disappointment, 


308 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

after all my wanderings in search of you, — which were now 
necessarily brought to an end, — for, of course, I had not 
the madness to venture to the capital. I then returned to 
my native State, and rested for nearly a year. About six 
months ago, I started out again to look for you. I came 
as far as New Orleans, intending to make my way to San 
Antonio on horseback — in disguise, of course. Hearing 
that Colonel Magee was then in the city in search of vol- 
unteers for the patriot army of Mexico, I was not long in 
making up my mind to join his standard, — since it w’ould 
not only give me the opportunity of fighting for your na- 
tive province, — but it was the only way I could reasonably 
hope ever to see you again. Thus it is that I am with you 
now.” 

The Senorita then related her adventures. But as the 
reader is already acquainted with them, there is no need 
of repeating them here. Suffice it to say, that she dwelt 
particularly on the unceasing torture she had endured 
from the suspense of not knowing anything whatever 
of his fate. With all her details, however, she told him 
nothing about her relations with Gatewood — not even 
that he had rescued her and her friends from the clutches 
of the Spaniards. In a word, she never once named him in 
her narration. 

“ Now, Isabella,” said her lover, when she had finished, 
“ since we have had such bitter experience in the way of 
long separations, and as the future is to us so very uncer- 
tain, that, if we part now, we may never meet again, I 
suggest that you go on to Nacogdoches in the rear of our 
army, — with myself as your escort. I understand the 
forces will be delayed there about two months, awaiting 
supplies. As soon as we arrive, we will go to the Padre 
of the place, who will make us man and wife. Are you 
willing to do so?” 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 300 

As she did not immediately answer this very direct pro- 
posal, he went on, in a few moments, to give the whys and 
wherefores, — not only to relieve the very awkward pause, 
but because he thought it nothing more than fair that she 
should have a little time to consider, — and, moreover, that 
she had the right to know the grounds on which he based 
his overtures for such a speedy union. 

“ You will thus get out of this unpeopled wilderness and 
back to your native province, under the very natural pro- 
tection of your lover. We will spend two happy months 
of married life in Nacogdoches, which, as you know, is the 
second town in Texas, where there is much refined society, 
and where nearly every citizen is a friend of liberty and 
hostile to the Gachupins. Then, when the army leaves, 
you can await there the result of its operations westward. 
If it should succeed in expelling the foe from Texas, we 
can go and live, if you prefer it, at your beautiful home 
near San Antonio. On the other hand, should the cam- 
paign prove disastrous, I will, if I survive it, return 
through Nacogdoches, and take you with me to my own 
more peaceful home in my native State.” 

To two fond lovers, eager to be made one, what could 
have appeared more reasonable than such a proposition ? 
And the truth is, if the Senorita had had no little by-play 
to this life-drama, which she wished to be acted on the 
other side of the curtain from him, this proposition would 
have seemed to her the most natural one in the world, and 
she would not have had to think twice before adopting it. 
And yet, instead of accepting it at once, as he thought she 
possibly would, — or modestly hesitating a moment, and 
then assenting gracefully, with perhaps a charming blush, 
as he thought most probable, — she did what he would have 
considered — had such a result previously suggested itself 
to his mind at all — neither probable nor possible; first, 


310 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


looked as one taken wholly by surprise — then, casting her 
eyes on the ground, mused for a while dejectedly, and when 
she essayed to speak, stammered — broke down — then 
tried again — and at last (he could scarcely believe his 
ears that heard the stunning words) said she would prefer 
postponing their marriage until the war should be quite 
ended — which they both knew might not be for years. 

King was as much hurt, as he was astonished by this 
answer. After all these mutual avowals of love — after all 
that torturing suspense — that wringing of their hearts for 
each other’s sake — to be thus brought together once more 
by the merest freak of fate, and then for his beloved to reject 
an honorable wedlock, and to prefer parting again, perhaps 
forever! He thought it not only strange, but hard — 
indeed, at the moment, almost heartless. And such 
thoughts could, in a measure, be read in his face in lines 
of reproachful sadness, as he glanced at her. He, how- 
ever, never once suspected double-dealing. He only 
looked upon this hesitation as proof of the melancholy 
fact that she did not love with half his own fervor. 

She was not slow to read the distressed expression wdiich 
swept his handsome features; and — to do her justice — it 
cut her to the very heart. She felt, at that moment of 
agony, that she could cast her country’s present prospects 
to the winds and await a more auspicious moment for its 
redemption, that she might remove by marriage all doubt 
from that faithful breast — all trace of pain from the noble 
face before her. 

After another brief but terrible struggle as to w^hether she 
should still tell him all about her transactions wdth Gate- 
wood and the cause of them, leaving him to dictate what 
course would then be best; or whether, without making 
this explanation, she should marry him and remain where 
she w^as until the war was over, or go with him as he 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 311 


had suggested ; or whether she should do neither of these 
things, but let matters stand just as they were at present, 
she found it so difficult to decide which course to pursue, 
that she resolved to hold her decision, for a little while, in 
reserve, if she could manage so to arrange things. With 
this view she asked him: 

“ Carlos, you will surely stay here with us, for a few 
days — at least? ” 

“ It is impossible,^’ he answered. “ I must hasten to re- 
join my comrades : they have no idea where I am. In 
my wild haste to meet you I left the ranks without saying 
a word to any one, and they will think me a deserter, un- 
less I return soon — for I am an entire stranger to them, 
having caught up with them only yesterday. They are to 
encamp about ten miles from here to-night, and if I start 
soon I can reach them before the day closes.” 

“ But you can get a leave of absence, and return to me 
to-morrow ? I will then be prepared to tell you exactly 
what I will do. I should like to have ample time to con- 
sider the subject : it is a very important one to me — more 
so perhaps than you think. And when you come, I will 
tell you why it is so important to me.” 

She had been, all this while, taxing her ingenuity to the 
utmost, to think of soihething that might excuse, or at least 
extenuate, her indecision in this matter, — but she could 
not, for her life, summon up anything plausible that she could 
afford to tell : hence, this compromise proposal, to hold the 
subject under advisement. By to-morrow she would be 
able, she thought, to make up her mind, which was now so 
vacillating. If she should decide to marry him without 
further delay, all would be right. Should she decide to 
put him off for a while, why, she would assuredly be equal 
to the task of concocting some good reason by the time 
they should meet on the morrow. 


312 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


“Well, I suppose it must be so,” he said, sadly. “ But, 
Isabella, I must tell you I have a presentiment just now, 
that if we part thus, we shall never see each other again. 
It may appear to you foolish — but I feel it nevertheless.” 

“Oh,” she replied, with affected carelessness, though a 
shudder shot through her frame even as she uttered the 
words, “ we must not allow our mere imagination to have 
too much sway in matters of such moment.” 

“Well, you may be right. I only hope you are. Good- 
bye, my love ! ” 

They parted tenderly — with the understanding that he 
was to return the next evening, from the encampment 
where the little army waste rest until the second morning. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

Alas I how love can trifle with itself. 

Two Gentlemen of Verona, 

If you think well to carry this, as you may, the doubleness of the 
benefit defends the deceit from reproof. What think you of it ? 

Measure for Measure. 

] ^ILLY, meanwhile, strolled on to the house, reflecting 
- on the day’s events, and nervously summing up the 
advantages which they would probably bring her for the 
amendment of her affairs, — fallen, of late, into such a sad 
plight ; and it is scarcely necessary to say that she derived 
much hope from her reflections. She sought the room occu- 
pied by herself and the Senorita, and almost the first object 
which drew her attention on entering, was a letter lying 
open on the floor. Not only was the seal broken, but the 
sheet was quite unfolded. She picked it up, along with a 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 313 

book and some newspapers that lay near it, with the view 
of putting them aside, for order’s sake, — a very common 
thing with her, — she having gradually taken upon herself, 
since coming to live there, the business of arranging the 
room, whenever the Senorita in her abstracted moods — 
which, of late, were frequent — would leave things strewn 
about. 

A letter being by no means an every-day affair in that 
wild region, Filly could not help glancing at the hand- 
writing. That single glance sufficed to bring about events 
that colored the rest of her days. It was a letter from 
Gatewood, and the girl instantly recognized it as such. 
Nor was she long in finding that it was addressed to the 
Senorita. 

Considering how long Filly had been kept on the rack 
by her ignorance of the exact condition of affairs between 
“Senor” and Isabella, as well as the few moral advantages 
she had enjoyed, — living, as she had done, ever since the 
first dawn of her reason, where honor, if not daily murdered 
outright, was at least constantly besmirched by some ques- 
tionable act on the part of those around her, — it is prob- 
'ably not much to be wondered, that she dived into the 
contents of this letter with an eagerness which she had 
seldom, or perhaps never, before felt. So absorbed, indeed, 
was she in the act, that she did not move a jot from her 
position until she had read every word of it. 

The letter was as follows : 

Salitre Prairie, 

West Bank of the Sabine. 

My Dearest Isabella : As I have a chance to send a letter 
to Natchitoches, I will write you and enclose to a friend, who 
always sees Miguel when he goes to town for the news, and will 
of course hand it to him for you. 

We came within sight of this point yesterday, and imme- 
diately attacked the Spanish force stationed here. After a 
27 


r314 MOKE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


running fight of about an hour, we drove them entirely off, with 
a loss on our part of two killed and three wounded. We leave 
early to-morrow for Nacogdoches — so I have not much 
time to write. We are all in fine spirits and confident of worst- 
ing the Gachupins as soon as we can come up with them. I 
feel my sympathies enlisted more and more every day in the 
cause which you have so well taught me to espouse. But how 
could it be otherwise? Am I not all your own? What is 
nearest your heart is also nearest mine, — and it must be so 
henceforth and for all time. I often recall the many delightful 
hours we have spent together on the lake and in the wood. I 
often recall — so vividly too that I realize in the fond vision 
half the bliss they gave me at the time — those burning kisses 
and tender embraces. Oh, how they thrill me, and inspire me 
anew with devotion to the cause which is yours! I must live 
in the mere memory of them — such is the soldier’s fate — until 
our promised marriage shall make sweet realities of them all. 
Then liberty and love shall go hand in hand, with nothing to 
intrude on our paradise — for, as I pledged you, I will then quit 
forever the wild life I have been leading, and we will dwell to- 
gether in happiness the remainder of our days. 

My duties claim my attention now, dearest, and I have no 
time to write more — or I could fill pages with my love for you, 
and in anticipating the happier days that await us when the war 
is over. I will send a letter whenever I can, though the oppor- 
tunities will be so very rare that you must not be disappointed, 
nor think me remiss if you get none at all. In a year or two, 
however, or perhaps sooner, I have no doubt I shall be able to 
return to the lake in person and bring you away as my bride, to 
look again on your beautiful Texas — more beautiful than ever 
then, that she too will be tricked out in her new bridal robes, 
as the spouse of liberty. 

It will be useless to ask you to write — much as I should like 
to hear — for after we leave here we place a wilderness between 
ourselves and you — so that there will be few facilities, if any, 
for sending a letter either way. But I will ask you to think of 
me often — and not forget me even in your dreams ! 

Your devoted lover, Gatewood. 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 315 


While it is needless to say that the perusal of this letter 
caused Filly much pain, she found comfort in the belief 
that all the love therein expressed for another would now 
be transferred back to herself, where she thought it right- 
fully belonged. Therefore, although the well-nigh un- 
mixed joy, which she had felt but a few moments before, 
was alloyed no little by this actual sight of Gatewood's 
ardent w^ords of love written to her rival, her relief, on the 
whole, was so great from the agony of the last few weeks, 
— when she thought herself altogether deserted by him, 
and left without a single hope of regaining him, — that 
she felt much reason for self-gratulation on the day's 
results. 

Being a good deal worn-out by the excitement of the 
afternoon, which had kept her feelings so long on the 
stretch, after laying the letter carefully away, she threw 
herself on the bed and w^as soon asleep. 

For some time after Isabella’s lover bade her adieu, she 
kept her position at the foot of the tree where they had 
been conversing. She watched his retiring form until 
completely hidden from her view by the foliage, through 
which he made his way with rapid strides, — for, that he 
might the sooner rejoin his comrades, instead of taking 
the path by which he had come, he struck off through the 
trackless woods in a more direct course. No sooner had 
his figure vanished, the sound of his steps died away, and 
the agitated boughs, just at the point where he had dashed 
them aside and disappeared behind them, ceased waving, 
and left no sign of him whatever, than she felt such a sense 
of loneness come over her as she had hoped- never to feel 
again. 

“He is gone !” she exclaimed, throwing herself pros- 
trate among the leaves. ^ 


316 MOEE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


These were all the words she spoke, — but her thoughts, 
so far from stopping, continued to sweep through her brain 
like a flood of fire. 

“ Oh, how fearfully am I swayed between those two dar- 
ling objects of my life — my poor country’s freedom and 
my poor heart’s love. But there shall be a speedy end of 
this painful trifling : I can endure it no longer. When he 
comes, to-morrow, I will tell him that I will marry him at 
once, — and so settle this matter forever. Ah ! why did I 
hesitate ? — it seems so strange now that I did. I little 
dreamed how desolate I should feel when he was gone, or 
I had not done it. His noble heart was wounded at my 
vacillation ; and no wonder, surely, after such suffering in 
the past, — and such prospect of suffering to come, in the 
dangers and hardships of battle. Would I could call him 
back now — this very moment open my breast to him — 
tell him how I have deceived him — and why — and then 
ask his forgiveness — make him mine for life ! Oh, that I 
could ! One day seems so long now to wait for his return. 
Yes, one brief day seems long — though I have waited 
through the agony of years. And have I only waited for 
this, at last — to hurt his kindly heart? To-morrow shall 
atone for all.” 

This, one might think, looks enough like decision : but 
it was not. It was only one of those impulsive outbursts 
which had often overcome, for a time, the passionate na- 
ture of Isabella Delgado, in some degree throughout her 
life, — but more especially during her sojourn in the Neu- 
tral Ground : in other words, since the trying alternative 
of a choice between love and patriotism had swerved her 
from the spotless sincerity of her early youth. By the 
time she had risen from the ground and was slowly making 
her way towards the house, her mind was already begin- 
ning to undergo a change. • 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 317 


“ But were I to do this, and Captain Gatewood to hear 
of it, as he most probably would, it would cause him to 
withdraw at once from the field, and so, dash the only hope 
we have for Texas, now so near her freedom, if he but re- 
mains her champion. He might even do worse : on the 
discovery of such a gross deception practised upon him — 
treachery it may well be called, unless 1^ undeceive him before 
taking this step, and tell him candidly how it is, that I have 
met with my own true lover, long thought dead — his fierce 
temper might even impel him to espouse the opposite side. 
And, surely, I could not blame him, knowing as I do full 
well that his feelings are only conditionally enlisted in our 
cause. He has been entrapped solely by these silken 
bands of my weaving. If I sever them by marrying an- 
other, there will be nothing left him but to turn on us in 
pitiless revenge. No : I will let things remain as they are, 
and when the war is over, make my choice between them — 
a choice that is already made in my heart, and can never 
be changed. The Chief may fall in battle, and in that 
case there will be no choice to make. But what if he sur- 
vive, Carlos be slain, and the tyrants win? Ah! far bet- 
ter for me both should fall — for then the convent becomes 
my haven of rest.” 

As was perhaps not altogether unnatural, these conflict- 
ing thoughts ended, at length, in a resolution to adopt a 
medium course — that King, when he should come the 
next day, should be told, without concealment or reserve, 
about the matter, from beginning to end, — the question 
of their marriage to be left entirely to his decision. It was 
a terrible struggle, in which her olden candor triumphed. 

The Senorita’s entrance into the room woke Filly, and 
she started up. 

Where ’s Mr. John ? ” she asked. 

“ He’s gone. Filly.” 

27 * 


318 MOEE THAN SHE COULD EEAB. 


“ Not for good ? ” 

“ No — he left his command without getting permission, 
and so had to return as soon as he could. He promised to 
come again to-morrow evening.” 

The Senorita took a seat by the open window, while her 
companion lay down again on the bed. They both seemed 
to glide off into reverie. 

“ Filly,” Isabella at length said, “ I ’m going to tell you 
my secret — at least a part of it. I believe I can trust you 
to keep it ; and, then, it seems so hard to stay here in the 
wilderness and not share such precious thoughts with some 
one ; besides, if it had not been for you, I should not have 
found my lover. In truth, if it had not been for you, he 
says he should have been dead long ago. So, there will be 
a peculiar fitness as well as a pleasure in telling you about 
it. ‘My lover,’ did I say, just now? Why, then, you 
already know my secret.” 

“ Oh, you must not think me so dull, Senorita, that I 
did n’t guess that much as long ago as yesterday.” 

“ So you well might. But, at best, it was only a guess 
then. Filly — now, you know it. 

“ But, Filly,” she added, after a pause, “ you must have 
tarried but a very short time where we were. We looked 
around for you, after talking a little while, and you 
could n’t be found.” 

“ After talking a little while, indeed ! Why, as soon as 
you opened your eyes, and — well, as soon as I saw how 
things were likely to go, I left you, — of course I did.” 

“ That was very considerate in you,” replied the Seno- 
rita, with a faint smile and a very evident blush. 

She now told the girl a good deal about her love-affairs, 
with which the reader is supposed to be already familiar. 

“I reckon you will be married now — as you have been 
separated so long?” said Filly, with her usual direct sim- 
plicity, as soon as the other had finished her story. 


MORE THAX SHE COULD BEAR. 319 


This was an important question to her who propounded 
it — an a//-important one. In fact, she would rather, by 
far, have had it answered than to have heard all the long 
story that had just been told her, as much as this interested 
her. 

The Senorita, so far from taking umbrage at this rather 
plain inquiry into the state of her affairs, seemed pleased 
at the interest manifested in them, and answered without 
the least hesitation : 

“Well, that’s a question we did not fully decide. I 
shall leave it entirely to Carlos when he comes.” 

Here the colloquy closed, for the present, and they both 
lapsed again into the meditative mood. For this, the 
time was peculiarly favorable — the shadows of twilight 
were closing fast around them. That hour, 

“ When Meditation bids us feel 
We once have lov’d, though love is at an end,” 

is also singularly fitted for dwelling on such a love as 
theirs, which has not yet ended, nor is likely to end but 
with life. 

The longer Isabella revolved in her mind the last reso- 
lution she had formed, the more did it impress her as being 
the right course to pursue, — in truth, the only course she 
could pursue ; and no great while elapsed before she began 
to marvel that she had ever thought of doing anything else. 
So that, in the end, her summing up was, “ He shall know 
all about it to-morrow, and then I will do whatever he 
says.” 

“ To-morrow ! ” Ah ! that treacherous word ! — who 
can foreknow what it has in store ? 

As to Filly, many allowances are to be made for her 
musings on this occasion — her reasonings — the conclu- 
sions she arrived at — her determination as to her course 


320 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


of action in this critical matter : for she had long since re- 
solved on action, energetic action too, if an opportunity 
should ever present to reclaim her faithless lover. Her 
comparative ignorance of the world’s ways — its sentimen- 
talities — its thousand little refinements of thought and 
feeling — must be constantly borne in mind. Indeed, these 
considerations must by no means be lost sight of during the 
perusal of many other of these pages : else, her conduct at 
times may well strike the reader as improbable. 

“ If they would only marr}’’,” she thought, “ that would 
end my agony. For no one but this beautiful charmer 
could ever have taken him from me in the first place ; 
and, once married, of course, she will lose all her charms 
for him, — and then he would come back to me. But if 
they decide not to marry now, many things may happen to 
prevent it, and dash my hopes again. Mr. John may be 
killed : and then Senor will be hers, with no kind of doubt. 
Or, both may come back from the war : in that case there 
will be a duel, and if there is, Senor will be certain to kill 
him, — for there’s no better shot and fencer in the world, — 
and then he ’ll marry her. All she says about her devotion 
to Mr. John may be true, but it’s not the whole truth, for 
he’s not very much handsomer than Senor, and thefn he’s not 
near so agreeable, — and I know she must love Senor just as 
much — probably a great deal more. Why, don’t that letter 
show it? Would she allow him to kiss and hug her, as he 
says there he did, unless she loved him devotedly ? And 
even now, when Mr. John has been found, I can’t think 
she is willing to give Senor up altogether. I only wish I 
could think so. No — no — she wants to keep two strings 
to her bow, as they say. She will wait till the war ’s over, 
so that, if one should be killed, she can marry the other. 
I could n’t do so, but it’s sometimes done in the novels, and 
I suppose in the world too. Oh, if they would only marry ! 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


321 


** Suppose I were to go to Mr. John and tell him plainly * 
that Seuor and myself were just on the eve of being mar- 
ried when the Senorita came and stole him from me. 
Would there be any harm in that? Suppose I were to tell 
him how wretched I am, and how much more wretched I 
shall be if Senor never loves me again. It might touch his 
heart, — for he has a kind heart, — and he says I saved his 
life once ; and if I did, I ’m sure he might pity me enough 
to do what would give me back my happiness. The Seno- 
rita says she is going to leave to him the question of their 
marriage. Now, if I can only — Ah, that letter! — it is 
the very thing : that will tell him all. I ’ll just hand it to 
him, and when he reads it — if he loves her as I think he 
does — he will certainly insist on their being married at 
once, — for he will then see that, if he puts it off, he may 
lose her altogether. 

“Would it be wrong to do this? Would I be doing in- 
justice to anybody ? I can’t see that I would. As to Mr. 
John, it would surely be doing him a favor, rather than a 
wrong. As to the Senorita, she has been very kind to me, 
and I ’m very grateful to her for it. But is it reasonable 
that just because one lover might be killed in the war, she 
should be allowed to keep two engaged to her, when one 
of them is mme, and when all the happiness I ever expect 
to have, depends on his being restored to me ? My grati- 
tude will go very far, I believe; but justice to myself for- 
bids any such stretch as that. Then, there is Senor: would 
it be treating him badly ? I can’t think so. He had no 
business to make me love him so — and then to leave me. 
To be sure, he saved my life — at least saved me from a 
life that was a thousand times worse than death. But 
does that give him a right to break my heart ? ” 


322 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 


There is that in this fardel will make him scratch his beard. 


Winter’s Tale. 


I have tremor cordis on me : — my heart dances, 


Winter’s Tale. 


But not for joy, — not joy. 


EXT morning, soon after breakfast — the Senorita 



I'N having gone to stroll on the beach, that she might 
ruminate, alone, on the new prospects opening to her 
mental view, so wholly unexpected but one short day 
before — Filly, with the design of reviewing and perfecting 
her plan of the previous night, drew forth the Captain’s 
love-letter from the nook where she had concealed it, and 
read it over a second time. 

Besides placing this missive in King’s possession, she 
now resolved that, instead of trusting her tongue to explain 
to him the further particulars of this delicate matter, she 
would write what she had to say — this being, she thought, 
a much less embarrassing and painful mode of imparting 
tidings which were unpleasant, but at the same time essen- 
tial to be known. She accordingly procured writing-ma- 
terials and indited the following letter : 

Dear Mr. John : I enclose you a letter which I found lying 
wide open in our room (the Sehorita’s and mine) yesterday after 
you left. It speaks for itself, as far as it goes — but it don’t go 
quite far enough to speak for me — so I shall have to say a few 
words. 

Captain Gatewood and myself were engaged to be married — 
but the very day before our marriage was to take place, he 
rescued the Senorita, and her uncle and brother, from the Span- 
iards who had captured them and were taking them back to 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 323 


Texas as prisoners. From that moment — now nearly a year 
ago — I’ve never once seen him or heard a word from him — 
the enclosed will tell you plainly enough why. 

It went very hard with me from the first, Mr. John, — and as 
the days go by, it seems still harder to bear. I told you, as you 
may remember, that a gentleman who had built by the lake had 
offered her his house to live in — but I did n’t choose to tell 
you then who the gentleman was. Well, it was Captain Gate- 
wood. He had that very house (the one I am in now) built and 
furnished for me to live there with him as his wife. He took 
me to the lake before he commenced building it, that I might 
choose the spot, and after it was finished he bought everything 
I wanted to furnish it with. We were to go to the priest next day 
in Natchitoches, and after being married, were to live here at the 
lake — but that was the day he met with her. I was sent from 
the camp to Natchitoches and never saw him afterward. 

I can’t recover from the blow. I ’ve been crushed ever since. 
But I don’t blame the Senorita for it. She did n’t know we 
were engaged, and don’t know it now, nor even suspect a word 
of such a thing. For my sake as well as your own I hope 
you ’ll not go off* to the war without making her your wife — 
for if you do, and you and Captain G. both come back alive, 
believe me, sir, he will not give her up to you without a duel. 
If he kills you, you will go to your grave, while he will marry 
her — and I ’m not sure that will not send me to mine. If you 
kill him, you may as well have fired the same bullet through my 
heart too — for it would n’t kill me any sooner in that way than 
by being fired through his. 

Oh ! Mr. John, she loves you dearly — I know she does. Why 
then can’t you marry her at once, and put an end to all .this 
suffering ? 

Your true friend, Filly. 

Scarcely had the girl finished her letter, when, on look- 
ing out the window fronting the lake, she saw the Seno- 
rita leisurely making her way back to the house. It was 
but the work of a moment to fold her epistle, place the 
other within it, and direct the package to Mr. John Gatley. 


324 MOEE THAN SHE COULD BEAE. 


Scarcely had she thrust it in her bosom, when Isabella 
entered the room. 

“Senorita,” the girl at once began, — partly, it may be, 
from impatience to execute her project, but mainly to hide 
her embarrassment on so narrowly escaping detection, — 
“ I ’ve taken a fancy for a ride this beautiful morning : do 
you feel in the same humor?” 

“No, Filly,” she replied, as the girl well knew she 
would, or the invitation had not been extended. Indeed, 
had she suspected any desire of the kind on the Senorita’s 
part, she would have stolen off without letting her know 
she was going away at all — much less, whither. “ No — 
Filly ; I feel like passing the morning alone. I feel that 
this day is so closely interwoven with my destiny I can do 
nothing better than try to unravel the web.” 

“Unravel it — indeed ! Don’t you think, then, that Mr. 
John will come this evening, and unravel it for you ? ” 

“ I don’t see what ’s to prevent his coming, and yet I 
cannot help thinking he may not. He told me, on parting, 
he had a presentiment that we should never see each other 
again.” 

“Oh, Senorita! — don’t indulge in such horrid thoughts: 
cast them out, do. On the eve of your marriage, too, 
perhaps.” 

On hearing herself utter these last words, the smile 
which she had summoned to cheer her companion vanished 
instantly, her countenance fell, and she herself looked very 
like an object to be cheered ; for those words had reminded 
her that she was once “ on the eve of marriage ” — but the 
marriage never came. 

This sudden change, however, was not observed by the 
Senorita, who now threw herself on the bed, and said, with 
a deep sigh : 

“Well — I’ll make the effort, Filly. Go, take your 
ride.” 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 325 


This conversation stimulated the girl to hurry forward 
the execution of her plan. For, unsophisticated as she 
was, she thought all painful presentiments, and every other 
obstacle, imaginary or real, to the union of those two de- 
voted hearts — to say nothing of the obstacles in her own 
way — must evanish like a morning mist before the pre- 
sentation of those letters now in her bosom. With this 
new incentive to prompt action, she glided hurriedly from 
the room, and, summoning Miguel to caparison the pony, 
was soon on her way to the patriot camp. 

The girl had intended inquiring for King, (under the 
name of Gatley, of course,) and after handing him the let- 
ters in person, to remain in his presence while he was 
reading them, that she might learn from his own lips their 
elfect upon him, — or, if he should prefer silence on the 
subject, then to ascertain the result as best she might from 
his manner, or any other outward sign. While yet at a 
distance she had anticipated little or no embarrassment to 
herself from so doing; but on drawing near, quite an al- 
tered view of the matter was presented to her — particu- 
larly when she came to imagine herself facing him while 
he should be reading her own letter, exposing the sad 
state of her affairs. She even began to have misgivings as 
to whether she was acting altogether fairly or not. But as 
these misgivings were of a very vague sort, and as she was 
unable to assign any good reason for them, she was dis- 
posed to attribute them — coming upon her, as they 
did, only at the eleventh hour — to diffidence. And, in 
a measure, her judgment was correct. 

The perhaps not very unnatural consequence of all this 
was, that, by the time she came within sight of the camp, 
she had resolved to give the package into the hands of 
some responsible person — in so far as she could judge him 
28 


326 MOKE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


to be such — ask him to deliver it to Gatley, and then 
make off, out of sight, and home with what speed she could. 
Before she fairly reached the camp — being as yet on the 
outskirts — she descried a tent pitched apart, larger and 
more showy than the rest — which indeed might well be, 
where none were either large or showy. 

“That’s some officer’s tent,” thought she. “ I ’ll leave 
the letters with Aim.” 

With this, she rode up to the rear of the tent, where she 
thought she would be less likely to be seen by any of the 
men — for, by this time, she had become quite ashamed of 
the boldness which had brought her here, and wished her- 
self well clear of the place and of her embarrassments. 

A gentlemanly person, who had no doubt heard the 
sound of the horse’s feet, lifted the rear tent-flap a little way 
and peeped out. On discovering that there was a lady in the 
case, he touched his cap, and, emerging, approached her 
side — evidently, from the expression of his face, very 
much astonished at something : and what was it, if not at 
seeing one of the gentle sex at such a place ? 

“Is Mr. Ki — I mean Mr. John — Gatley in camp?” 
she stammered forth, by this time blushing deeply, 

“ John Gatley? Yes — you’ll find him in a tent nearly 
fronting this one,” said the officer, (for such he was,) point- 
ing in the direction he wished to indicate. “ Or, if you pre- 
fer it, I will send for him. Just wait a moment.” 

So saying, he turned about, with the view of carrying out 
his suggestion. 

“ Oh, no, sir,” said Filly, at once drawing forth the 
package. “ I don’t wish particularly to see Mr. Gatley — 
but here is a letter for him : if you will only be kind 
enough to see that he gets it without delay, it is all I 
wish — and much obliged to you, sir.” 

“ By no means, I assure you,” said the officer, as he took 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 327 

the package from her hand : “ it will give me pleasure to 
hand it to him myself, at once.” 

Filly, bidding good morning, touched Pony with the 
whip and rode off. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

I lov’d her dearly, 

And when I do but think of her unkindness, 

My thoughts are all in hell. Heywood. 

I have drank, and seen the spider. — Winter’s Tale. 

S CARCELY had the girl disappeared, when the officer 
started forth to make good his word. He found Isa- 
bella’s lover alone in his tent. He was lying on his blan- 
ket with several newspapers scattered beside him. At that 
very moment, when the crushing blow was about de- 
scending upon him, he was musing of his betrothed, and 
fondly anticipating the joy which their appointed meeting, 
now so near at hand, would give him. 

The officer left him alone again as soon as he had handed 
him the package. He unfolded it, and as Filly’s letter was 
the outside one, and therefore first noted, he read it before he 
even glanced at the handwriting of the other. On perusing 
it, a feeling came over him that was by no means agreeable, 
though perhaps not more formidable than worry and dissat- 
isfaction that Isabella had been so uncandid as to keep him 
in total ignorance of so much of what was here exposed as 
concej-ned herself. That Gatewood, or for the matter of that, 
any other man, should be smitten, even to desperation, with 
her charms, did not surprise him in the least. Nor did the 
fact that she continued to live in the house — which had no 
doubt been duly negotiated for by her uncle and brother. 


328 MOEE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

as a temporary residence — seem to him at all strange, ex- 
cept in so far as the situation might be a dangerous one to 
any lady not sufficiently protected. That Gatewood, being 
deeply in love, should even venture to write to her, ap- 
peared but natural. In the girl’s letter there was not a 
word to show that Isabella had ever given the Captain the 
least encouragement — so that, what little indignation — 
if it may be so called — King felt at his sweetheart’s ap- 
parent want of candor in withholding from him the exact 
state of the affair, was entirely borne dowm and lost sight 
of by his sympathy with the poor, forsaken girl, who so 
simply depicted her own sufferings, and to whom, moreover, 
he owed his life. Glad enough, therefore, was he to find 
that his betrothed knew nothing whatever of Filly’s en- 
gagement, since this ignorance released her from all 
blame — even supposing she was to blame, in the least 
particular, for merely treating with common politeness 
(which he, as yet, supposed was the entire extent of the 
case) a man to whom she had had the misfortune to be placed 
under obligation, first by mere accident, and then by her 
natural friends and protectors, and through no agency of 
her own. 

As regarded any duel that he might hereafter find on his 
hands should he and Gatewood both survive the war, Filly, 
he thought, might not be far wrong about that. It would be 
by no means the first time that a man of Gatewood’s fierce 
temper had, by reason of baffled passion, insisted on such 
miserable satisfaction as the duello affords. The prospect 
of such a fight, however, ruffled him but little, except that, 
to use the poor girl’s words, “ to kill the Captain would 
be like sending a bullet through her own heart.” 

King read the letter but once, and read it rapidly, — yet 
so quick are the operations of an acute mind when in- 
tensely engrossed, that he made (mentally, of course) all 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 329 


the above comments on it during the brief time he was 
reading. So that, when he came to her earnest question 
at the end, “ Why, then, can you not marry her at once, 
and put an end to all this suffering ? ” he answered it, in 
his heart, if not with his lips, “ I don’t know. Filly — but 
if I can, I most assuredly will.” 

It was with no apprehensions or misgivings as to its con- 
tents, that King took up the other letter ; and whatever 
scruples he may at first have felt as to the propriety of read- 
ing it, were soon removed by the fact that it had been 
placed in his hands by one in whose honor he had good 
reason to confide, and who, in her own letter, had plainly 
told him that the welfare of more than one very dear to 
him depended on‘his perusing it. Inasmuch as the writer 
of it had been exceedingly kind to him during his sojourn 
at Camp Wildwood, — at a time when even a little kind- 
ness, as contrasting with the fearful treatment he had ex- 
perienced for years at the hands of his fellow-men, could 
be so well appreciated, and stood him in so good stead, — 
he could not help saying, “ Poor fellow ! ” as he cast his 
eye on the address, and thought how hopeless was the love 
of the brave man who penned it. This first compassionate 
impulse over, however, he felt, as he unfolded the letter, a 
touch of that contempt which we are apt to feel for one — 
be he ever so worthy — who hangs on long and hard to a 
beloved object, suing abjectly after every ray of hope is 
- fled, and even after the fair one’s scorn has withered him 
again and again — for he never doubted, for a single mo- 
ment, that such was the case here. The greeting on the 
inside of the missive, however, somewhat startled him at 
first sight. 

“ ‘My dearest Isabella,’ indeed!” he exclaimed. “The 
impudence of the fellow I ” 

By the time he had read a few line«?. embracing mere 
28 * 


330 MOEE THAN SHE COULD BEAE, 


matters of fact, of general interest, he came to the conclu' 
sion that this was but a friendly letter. 

“ Oh, I see how it is,” he thought. “ She tolerates his 
writing friendly letters to her — perhaps even encourages 
him in it — that she may get the news in which she is so 
deeply interested ; otherwise, she might not hear at all from 
the army. ‘ The cause which you have taught me so well to 
espouse.’ That ’s quite natural : she is very enthusiastic, 
and wins over to the cause all who come in contact with 
her. That was no trifle, my Bella ! Gatewood has nearly 
two hundred brave men under him. ‘Am I not yours?’ 
That is, her slave — ready to do her bidding. Verily, you 
are, wretched sir ! ‘ What is nearest your heart is nearest 

mine, and it must be so henceforth and for all time.’ Poor 
man ! how deeply he must be in love ! ‘ I often recall the 

many delightful hours we have spent together on the lake 
and in the woods.’ The sweet siren ! during those rambles 
she was only using her charms for her country’s good. I 
hope she gave him no reason even to think she loved him : 
that would, indeed, have been cruel — unpardonable ! Per- 
haps the next sentence will explain. ‘ I often recall — so 
vividly, too, that I realize, in the fond vision, half the bliss 
they gave me at the time — those burning kisses and tender 
embraces.’ ” 

Carlos King was a strong man : his physique was a 
splendid one, or his skeleton had long since mouldered piece- 
, meal in the dungeon of Queretaro, or had lain bleaching in 
the desert this side. His nerves were of the firmest — his 
thews almost as iron for strength and endurance. Though 
of gentle nature, he was a stranger to fear, and if need were 
to put forth his physical powers, there was not to be found 
of human mould a doughtier foe. Yet this man of almost 
god-like make succumbed, both in body and spirit, before 
that “paper bullet of the brain,” like a stout warrior shot 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 331 


through and through in battle. At that moment, and all 
in a moment, his fervent love and his darling hopes were 
alike crushed forever. For long years, he had fondly 
nursed them, like rare exotics, far away there in the inner- 
most recesses of his desolate heart — its only garden-spot : 
fondly nursed them there, through years of storm, and 
blight, and canker, — allowing none to intrude upon them, 
nor to look in, nor even so much as know of their exist- 
ence. To him they had all the fair outward seeming and 
tempting deliciousness of Dead Sea fruit, — and, like that, 
they crumbled now, just as he was reaching forth to cull 
them for the garnishing of his marriage-altar. 

Turning on his face, just there where he lay, he uttered 
a half suppressed moan — his agony tenfold keener for that 
his immortal part, and not his body, had sustained the 
scath. After a few minutes, he leaped up and paced the 
tent with hurried, but such uncertain strides, that he soon 
staggered to a camp-chest. Sinking down upon it to a 
sitting posture, he bowed low his head and pressed between 
his hands his throbbing temples. 

The first thing that came between him and the tortures 
of his sudden hell, was the sound of voices and laughter 
without, as from a passing group of rollicking men. These 
beat so jarringly on his ear and told him, in such plain 
terms, that this was no place for /wm, that he snatched up 
the letters — since they were not for mortal eye — and 
rushed away to the depths of the dim woods unseen. 

When he had gone far enough to feel secure from intru- 
sion, he flung himself on the ground, where he lay writh- 
ing, as though the snake that had stung him, along with its 
venom had imparted its own serpentine movements. Hours 
elapsed before he had any connected and definite thoughts 
as to his condition. To be sure, there was ever present to 
his mind a realization of some terrible calamity personal to 


332 MO EE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


himself, — a constant, keen sense of havoc and ruin within, 
— but this chaos of his mental deep was as yet without 
form and void, and darkness was upon its face. For a 
while he was in much such a whirl as characterizes the 
acme of madness. And, as the exhaustion which suc- 
ceeds the intense excitement of frenzy often induces 
slumber, long and profound, so was it in this case of tran- 
sient madness. 

As far as lying there alone on the cold, bare earth, the 
livelong night, was concerned, that was, comparatively, but 
a luxury to him who had so often lain pelted by the pitiless 
elements and howled at by hungry beasts. He did not 
wake Until a late morning hour, — and a most sovereign 
balm this respite of unconsciousness had proved to his 
fevered brain. 

It was, like the preceding one, a bright and beautiful 
day. The sunbeams came glinting aslant through the 
leafy openings : in unison with the breeze, they danced on 
his lids in their golden-slippered feet. His eyes opened to 
the touch of this gentle revelry, and let in the light even to 
the point of dazzling them and causing them to blink in 
their sudden pain. But with it all there came not a ray 
to the darkened soul that shuddered and crouched within. 
Nay — that outward sheen, by contrast, but deepened the 
inner gloom. 

Yet for all this, the physical man was no longer un- 
nerved. He now drew forth the fatal letter, confident of 
his strength to endure its contents and to read it through 
from beginning to end. As may be readily supposed, he 
dwelt not on the words, as before, but hurried through 
their torturing lines, as the luckless Indian captive runs the 
gauntlet. Every syllable buffeted his poor heart about, and 
more than once it was quite transfixed during the cruel race. 

He found there an engagement of marriage, to be solem- 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 333 

nized when the war should close ; a promise of reforma- 
tion ; fond anticipations of future happiness ; the recalling 
of past sweets ; the hoped realization of present musings ; 
the frequent recurrence of “ dearest ; ” the asking of the 
tender boon to be remembered and dreamed of — and all 
this from another, which should have been only from him. 
Yes — all this was there, and the strong man endured it 
without a tear, without a groan or sigh, — but yet not with- 
out such an inward struggle as none but his God could 
ever know. 

King, with this new incentive to do so, had no difficulty 
whatever — as, indeed, few lovers have, with no' incentive 
but true love itself to edge their memory — in recalling, even 
to the minutest details, his late interview with Isabella. 

“Ko wonder woic,” he thought, “that she came so near 
swooning when I told her of my intimacy with Gatewood. 
She feared that when he and I should meet again during 
this campaign, there might come about a mutual exposition 
not the most favorable to her faithless scheme. No wonder 
now that she looked surprised when I proposed our speedy 
nuptials. No wonder she cast her eyes to the ground, 
instead of looking tenderly in my face, as she was wont in 
the olden time when the lightest word bearing upon love 
escaped my lips. No wonder she took a little holiday of 
thought before speaking, and when she did speak at last, 
faltered at her own lukewarm words. Yet never once did 
I doubt her love, — but only its intensity compared with 
my own ; and even this I freely forgave, for it was then 
only a slight suspicion. Alas! it has become a dread 
reality. It is too plain now that all this was double-deal- 
ing. She wanted not less than two lovers at least ; (and, 
indeed, for aught I know to the contrary, she may have 
a half-dozen more;) one, as a reserve, to bill and coo with 
in Venus’ service, in case Mars should kill the other offi” 


334 MORE THAN SITE COULD BEAR. 

His mind was fated, however, to undergo many fluctua- 
tions before coming to a final determination on a matter 
which had struck its tincture through and through his life. 
From the sarcastic tone of thought in which he had just 
indulged, a reaction of softer feeling came over him, and 
he fondly strove to believe she could not have been so de- 
liberately heartless. 

“ She had, at one time,” he went on speculating, “ given 
me up as dead, — and surely not without good reason. 
What then if she, whiles, met with another who came next 
to me in her heart : could I blame her much for accepting 
him — thinking me forever lost to her ? Ah ! no — if she 
had but told me all, I could have forgiven her, with only a 
trace of all this pain : ay, in time, could have quite for- 
gotten it. But to be engaged to one — not a stranger to 
me, but a man who, she knew, had once befriended me and 
placed me under lasting obligations — and not to breathe 
me a word of it all, — that could not have come from a 
mere misfortune : it was tenfold worse than a misfortune ; 
it was perfidy — perfidy, too, of the blackest dye. 

‘ Burning kisses ’ — ‘ tender embraces,’ indeed ? I too 
have enjoyed these of her ; but, alas ! I have had my day, 
it seems, and such are no more for me. No — I will never 
be an alternate in love to this man, or to any one else ; 
nor will I allow him or any one else to be an alter- 
nate to me. I once thought Isabella Delgado mine — all 
mine — but now that she is, at least partly, another’s," and 
is neither anxious nor willing to forego him for me, I know 
she is false and has no further claim on my love. Gate- 
wood, Delgado, King & Co., Retail Dealers in Fancy 
Goods — or Haberdashery, perhaps — of the Heart. A 
new-fangled firm this, and a pretty one truly to trade with 
that ancient, venerable, wholesale concern, Cupid & Hymen ! 
Then, Know all men by these Presents, that the disgusting 
partnership is hereby forever dissolved.” 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 335 


And so great did the ruined man’s indignation grow, at 
this point, that he actually indulged in a sort of unearthly 
chuckle at his triumph — - or, what he chose to think his 
triumph — over himself. 

So might Marius have triumphed amid the ruins of 
Carthage — albeit they were ruins over-strewn by the far 
sadder wreck of the stern old Koman’s heart. 

The first impulse which came over him, after these re- 
flections, was, to go at once to the lake, and, under cover 
of night, put the letters into the hands of the old Mexican, 
who. Filly had told him, lived there in the Senorita’s ser- 
vice, — that he might give them to his mistress. 

“ She shall at least know,” thought he, “ that I am fully 
aware of her treachery.” 

So firmly resolved was he on this course, that he took a 
pencil from his pocket on the spot, and prepared the 
Chief’s letter for the contemplated delivery, by writing 
immediately after the closing words — “ Your devoted 
lover, Gatewood ” — as follows : 

“ Carlos King begs the honor of congratulating the 
Senorita Isabella on her approaching nuptials with her 
‘ devoted lover ’ — as so delicately foreshadowed in the 
above billet doux.*’ 

He knew she would recognize his handwriting, and 
therefore signed no name. 

Besides the motive jiist stated for delivering these letters 
into her hands — to inform her, namely, that he knew of her 
treachery — he felt himself actuated, in no slight degree, 
by an additional one. Filly’s letter would supply her with 
information which might, in the end, redound to the for- 
mer’s advantage. For, if the Senorita could be made to 
understand that Gatewood and the girl were to have been 
married on the very day before the fickle Chief met with 
her ladyship, and that the very house which the latter, 


336 MORE. THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


with so much complacency, occupied for her own personal 
comfort and convenience, had been specially prepared for 
the reception of the other bride, might she not be so stag- 
gered by the announcement as to withdraw, without more 
ado, her affections from the man, and her person from the 
house, and leave Filly once more in undisputed possession 
of both? But he soon saw — or thought he saw, which 
had the same effect — the utter folly of such a course. 

“ What a fool am I,^’ he muttered, “ to imagine that 
such a trifle as that could rouse either the shame or the 
pity of such a person. Moreover, let my sweet little friend 
speak for herself, if she wishes that faithless lady to know 
about the state of her affairs. She is constantly on the 
spot, and has the other’s ear, — and it is certainly no busi- 
ness of mine to act as her negotiator — and least of all, 
now. So, none of that : no, let all thought of the false 
one.be banished this moment and forever.” 

Only a few minutes more elapsed before he was on his 
way to rejoin his companions. 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

The hour ’s come, but not the man. — Kelper. 

Now, the devil that told me, I did well, 

Says that this deed is chronicled in hell. 

King Richard II. 

What 

I did not well, I meant well. — Winter’s Tale. 

T hat lovely June evening for which the Senorita and 
her lover had arranged their parting tryst, dragged 
along full wearily to both the fair dwellers at the lake. 
They lay, side by side, in the hammock, swinging listlessly— 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 337 

awaiting, with about equal anxiety, King’s arrival. Na- 
ture seemed to have decked herself out in a style of bright- 
ness and beauty peculiarly fitted for an occasion which 
promised so well to disperse the overhanging heart-shadows, 
and make all happy alike. But, then, Nature is not always 
what she seems to poor human eyes. 

They did not know precisely at what hour to expect 
their guest. They Vv^atched the sun’s last rays as they 
tipped for a few moments the tree-tops on the eastern bank 
of the lake, then faded entirely away — but he came not 
then. Nor yet did he, while the twilight dampness was 
extracting fragrance from the spicy woods around, and 
zephyrs were floating the instilled balm onward to where 
they sat, and dispensing luxurious coolness about them. 
Nor yet while the crescent moon rode high, checkering 
with “dim religious light” those leafy aisles, where an 
altar might well have been set up to the God who was 
even then so lavishly showing forth His glories around 
them, — His blessings, they thought, — fond lovers! vain 
dreamers ! poor deluded mortals ! — so soon to follow. 

“ Filly,” said the Senorita, about midnight, “ he surely 
cannot be coming to-night.” 

Each had thought this for several hours past, but 
neither had before ventured to shape it into words. The 
“witching hour,” however, had at last broken the spell, — 
and no sooner had Isabella thus expressed herself, than her 
companion readily agreed with her. 

“But, Senorita, what could have prevented his coming?” 

“Oh, many things may have })revented,” replied the 
other, bracing herself with at least the appearance of hope— 
the more, perhaps, that precious little of the cheering sub- 
stance itself was there. “ He may not have been able to 
get a leave of absence to-day. Or such news may have 
reached camp as to require all to push on to the front. 

29 


338 510RE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


Other things, too, may have happened. I have no doubt 
he will come to-morrow.” 

Now what these “other things” were which Isabella did 
not see fit to specify, may of course be gathered from the 
thoughts which her heart conceived, but which aborted on 
her tongue. 

“Could he have suspected,” she asked herself, “from my 
hesitation — my confusion — and, at last, when he proposed 
our immediate marriage — my downright refusal, — could 
he have suspected, from these, that I was not as true as I 
should be, and that there was something covert and insin- 
cere in my conduct ? It may well be so ; for I marked 
how his beaming countenance fell at that very moment. 
But then he looked cheerful again after I gave iny reasons 
for acting as I did. Yes — and he parted full of tender- 
ness. A 1 as ! he may have brightened up, to all outward 
appearance, — may have looked loving, to the very last, — 
may have done all this on purpose to mislead me, — in- 
tending, even whilst he did so, never to see, me again, 
thinking me — false ! ” 

The other thing that Isabella imagined might have hap- 
pened to prevent the return of her lover, was his having 
possibly met with his former benefactor, Gatewood, or with 
some of the men from the latter’s command, who might by 
chance, during some of their camp-fire discussions, have 
so expressed themselves within his hearing as to give him 
an inkling of what had been so long going on at the lake. 
For although she had no positive knowledge that her 
engagement with the Chief had been bruited about, or even 
that it was suspected, she thought such gossip not at all 
improbable, and now regretted, more than ever, her suicidal 
oversight in not freely enlightening King — when she had 
80 good an opportunity — with her own statement of the 
case, instead of running the risk of his getting hold of 


MORE THAN SHE COULl) BEAR. 339 

some perverted and ruinous version of the unfortunate 
affair. 

Filly, who, in placing the letters in King’s hands, had 
acted from an impulse caught from looking hastily at the 
matter, — and then only on its bright side, — now that the 
dark side began to obtrude itself, came, by degrees, to dis- 
cover how easily her conduct might produce an effect just 
the opposite of her intentions. 

It was not very long after midnight that they retired to 
their bed, since sitting up longer for their expected guest 
would evidently have been hoping against hope. 

All the next day, they were expecting him — the next 
— and still the next. They then gave him up, — but yet 
hoped, that, since he could not come in person, he would at 
least send tidings of himself by letter or otherwise, — and 
why he had not kept his engagement. At last, even this 
faint hope failed to delude them longer. 

“ Oh, that I could let him know of ray duplicity ! ” 
thought Isabella. ‘‘But he is far on his way across the 
wilderness, and, so, my wish is vain. My only alternative 
is to await, with what patience I may, the end of the war. 
If I can see him then, all may yet be well. Faint hope, 
indeed ! but I can do nothing better than nurse it.” 

Filly, for her part, from thinking that her hasty action 
might have had an effect the direct reverse of what she 
desired, came soon to have no doubt whatever that such a 
result — so disastrous to her own prospects, as well as to 
her friend’s — had already been consummated. 

But we must now leave these melancholy mourners to 
their sorrows, and their penitential tears, for many a long 
day, and turn our attention to the busy and bloody scenes 
about being initiated on the plains of Texas. 


340 


MOEE THAN SHE COULD BEAR, 


CHAPTER XXXVIL 

In the meantime, \rhat hear you of these wars ? 

AlVs Well That Mnd^ Well. 

I hope hei*e be truths. — Pleasure for Meagre. 

rilHE advance of the patriot army, after driving the 
X royal troops from the west bank of the Sabine, as 
stated in Gatewood’s letter to his betrothed, had pushed on 
to Nacogdoches with all dispatch, lest the enemy should 
have time to fortify that place to such an extent as to ren- 
der its capture a bloody affair. As it was, they found, on 
their arrival, that the force which they had driven from 
I he Sabine having retreated to Nacogdoches and joined 
the garrison there, the two combined had hastily con- 
structed, on the hill overlooking the town on the east, a 
breastwork, mainly of bales of wool designed for the Lou- 
isiana market. 

The enemy fled before the charge of the Americans, with 
scarcely a shot from either side, and could be seen rapidly 
making their way through the town at the very time the 
assaulting forces were taking possession of the abandoned 
works. The Americans, resolved, from the very necessity 
of the case, to utilize everything during this campaign, and 
finding that the wool-works, as such, could nowise serve 
the cause, sent them off without delay to Natchitoches, to 
be exchanged for additional arms and equipments, as well 
as enough supplies to serve them until they should get fur- 
ther into the interior ; for in all these the little army was 
still sadly deficient, the United States authorities having 
so seriously menaced its dispersion — to prevent an entan- 
glement with Spain at this particular time, when the long- 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 341 

threatened war with England had become a reality — that 
it had been forced to cross the border before they could be 
procured in sufficient quantities. 

Up to this point, the advance, though nominally under 
the direction of General Bernardo, was really commanded 
by the Chief of the Neutral Ground, whose men, indeed, 
composed, thus far, nearly the whole force. Here they 
were joined by the volunteers from the United States, 
numbering about a hundred and fifty. 

Having now penetrated some fifty miles into the Span- 
ish territory, they considered themselves secure from dis’ 
turbance by the United States government. That govern- 
ment, however, might yet materially cripple the expedition 
by capturing the expected arms and supplies, wffiich, even 
in case of the most fortunate conjunction of circumstances, 
could not reasonably be looked for sooner than six or eight 
weeks to come. At length, much to the little army’s relief, 
both mentally and physically, those war-essentials reached 
Nacogdoches in safety. 

It was a bold undertaking which they had now before 
them, — and it was well for them that no braver hearts 
could anywhere be found. Three hundred men were about 
to march through a wilderness where subsistence, drawn, 
as it necessarily would be, from the wild game of the country 
and from the few’ sparsely provisioned posts which they might 
hope to capture, must needs be precarious. After taking, 
on their w’ay, such places as should offer resistance, and 
beating back such force as should be sent against them, 
they must expect to meet, when they should reach the 
western confines of Texas, at least, if not before, the main 
army of the enemy. If worsted then, they must either 
fight to the last, or retreat five hundred miles through a 
hostile country, pursued by a merciless foe. If captured, 
a fate worse than death itself would aw’ait them in dun- 
L'9 


342 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

geons, or mines well-nigh as hideous, where they must drag 
out for years, unless suffering should sooner extinguish the 
vital spark, a wretched existence. Nor could they hope 
for any material accession to their small force, — for the 
United States, whence alone they could hope for recruits, 
had, as before stated, become involved in a struggle with 
the most powerful nation on the globe, and, of course, no 
more Americans could be expected, at a period so critical 
to their own country, to leave it, that they might lend a 
hand in freeing another. I 

In fact, taking into consideration the great disparity of 
the opposing forces, as well as all the other circumstances 
of the case, no bolder military project than the one we are 
about to chronicle, with such meagre facts as we can gather, 
had taken place on this continent since Cortez, with a 
handful of men, marched on the capital of the Montezumas; 
for not only had the Aztecs no knowledge of gunpowder, 
but they had only rude arms, at best, to cope with the ar- 
tillery and musketry of their invaders. The brief period 
beginning in August, 1812, and ending just one year from 
that time, was one of the most eventful in the whole history 
of Texas ; and it was only the fact that a bloody conflict at 
home engrossed, at the time, the entire attention of our 
people that prevented the Gachupin War in that province 
from occupying in history a much larger space than it does. 
As it is, this brief, but bloody war — which, as far as the 
American arms were concerned, began and progressed so 
gloriously, even to the very verge of final triumph, and at 
length closed in an overthrow almost unprecedented in its 
completeness and suddenness — fills, on the historic page, 
but an insignificant space. And, truth to say, but few per- 
sons in the United States have even so much as heard of 
such a war. 

During this time, Magee had remained behind, at 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 343 


Natchitoches, to collect and forward what recruits he 
could. He, however, soon arrived at Nacogdoches, and 
took command ; though it was understood that Ber- 
nardo — as Magee himself had originally proposed — 
should be the nominal commander-in-chief throughout the 
campaign. 

Some time in September, the little army left Nacog- 
doches and moved against Spanish Bluff, on the Trinity. 
This post, then occupied by about four hundred Span- 
iards, w^as evacuated on the approach of the Americans. 
The latter, after remaining here for several weeks, vainly 
awaiting reinforcements, set out for La Bahia, an old Spanish 
town on the Guadaloupe, now called Goliad. 

When within a few miles of La Bahia, Magee’s advance 
captured certain spies, who gave information that Governor 
Salcedo commanded at La Bahia, and that, having been 
told that the Americans would attack the place, he had 
marched out with fourteen hundred men, and with these 
was, at that moment, awaiting the invaders in ambush, at 
the Guadaloupe crossing. Magee, on further investigation, 
finding this statement made good, changed his route, — 
crossing the river below the ambushed road, — then, 
making a forced march, reached the fort before daybreak, 
and captured the small garrison with but little resistance. 

Three days afterwards, Salcedo, enraged at having been 
so completely circumvented, made a furious assault on the 
place, — but, being driven off, fell to work preparing for a 
regular siege. The Americans, meanwhile, were by no 
means idle. They mounted on the bastions of the fort the 
three six-pounders which they had brought with them, 
together with the only cannon they found there, — the same 
being an old nine-pounder, — and proceeded to fortify the 
place as well as they could, and otherwise to prepare for its 
defence. 


344 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

Salcedo had fourteen pieces of artillery of various cali- 
bre. Dividing his force — which, by this time, amounted 
to two thousand men — ^'into four divisions, he stationed 
one on each bank of the river, above the town, and made a 
similar disposition below'. After cannonading sufficiently 
to satisfy himself that he could effect nothing without 
heavier ordnance, he suspended his operations for a fort- 
night, until he received nine splendid brass cannon, with 
W’hich he could throw a shot a distance of three miles. 
Finding, on trial, that even with this accession of artillery 
little could be done against the strong walls confronting 
him, he began to approach nearer, finally venturing into 
the towm itself. 

Toward the close of November one of the severest fights 
of the siege took place wdthin the town and under the w'alls 
of the fort. It lasted from nine o’clock in the morning 
until two p. M , when the royal troops hastily retreated, 
after a heavy loss in killed and wounded, the Americans 
losing comparatively few'. Finding they could not take 
the town by assault, the enemy now determined to invest 
it closely and starve the Americans out. 

The investment continued for nearly three months, and 
during this time skirmishes took place almost every day, 
though there were only two other general engagements. 
The first of these was brought on, during the latter part of 
January, without premeditation by either of the combat- 
ants. The enemy’s main force, on the opposite side of the 
river, attempted to kill a beef for their owm use. The beef 
escaping ran towards the river in the direction of the fort. 
Now, although the Americans, when they had captured the 
place, had found an abundance of corn and salt, they had 
found little else in the w’ay of provisions. One of Gatew'ood’s 
hungry companies — the dne to which Wynne belonged — 
chanced to be looking on, and seeing this delicious viand 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


345 


travelling toward them, their mouths straightway began to 
water, — observing which, the cool old high-private just 
named, who always kept an eye to the main chance, ad- 
dressed those around him in his peculiar style of oratory. 

Boys,” said he, ‘‘beef’s a rare thing with us lately, and 
as we don’t like it quite so rare, s’pose we furnish our own 
this one time. And to make right shore, boys, that it’s well 
done for once, s’pose our whole squad crosses the river, and 
puts in for this here contract.” 

No sooner said than done: for it was seldom that Wynne 
proposed anything in vain. In fact, Patrick Henry’s fa- 
mous and oft-quoted outburst, reaching its climax of pathos 
in “Beef! beef!” compared with this other “forest-born 
Demosthenes’ ” effort, was the merest twaddle, so far as its 
effect on the audience was concerned. As it was not long, 
however, before the execution of their project brought 
them in contact with the enemy, it may well be supposed 
they forgot all about the beef. From this insignificant 
beginning, the engagement became a general one, and 
lasted about two hours — or until night, wdien the Ameri- 
cans retired, fording the river back again to the fort, with 
the loss of only seven men. The enemy’s loss was nearly 
two hundred. 

Indeed, throughout the siege, the greatest difficulty, on 
the part of the Americans, consisted in defending them- 
selves — not against the Spaniards — though this was no 
child’s play — but against hunger. They could obtain 
beeves only by sending out foraging parties at night, some- 
times as far as the Nueces — a distance of about fifty 
miles — -where cattle of the finest quality abounded, and, 
on returning, they had to take advantage of the darkness 
to drive them in between the investing divisions — having 
sometimes to kill the sentinels, or even to fight a small battle. 

Before the last general engagement, — which took place 


346 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

about the middle of February, — for some uiiknowu reason, 
a three days’ cessation of hostilities had been agreed upon, 

— the officers of the respective armies exchanging civilities 
and such courtesies as are usual between gentlemen. It 
was during this lull that a mysterious event occurred which 
took every American by surprise and came near proving 
instantly and fatally disastrous to the expedition. Magee 
having accepted an invitation to dine in the quarters of 
the Spanish commander, this festal interview resulted in 
an agreement between them, that the fort should be sur- 
rendered, and the Americans should go home without arms, 

— Salcedo to supply them with provisions on the way. 

Magee returned to the fort, paraded the men, told what 

he had done, and took their vote by directing those ap- 
proving his course to shoulder arms. His brave followers 
unanimously struck the butts of their rifles to the ground 
with indignation. Magee retired, with no little confusion, 
to his quarters, leaving the men on parade. Difficulties 
and disorder threatened. Lieutenant-Colonel Kemper, re- 
pairing to Bernardo, — who usually kept in the back- 
ground, and did little, in fact, throughout the campaign, 
beyond signing such papers as were necessary, — brought 
him forth to aid in meeting this sudden and unfortunate 
emergency. The General sided with the troops. 

Meanwhile, a flag from the Spanish commander brought 
a note to Magee. This was delivered to Bernardo, who 
found that it reminded Magee of his honor, and of the fact 
that the hour agreed upon for the surrender had expired. 
The flag was sent back with no answer. 

Salcedo now made a furious assault, took the town, and 
advancing to the walls of the fort, threatened, for a while, 
to capture everything and end the w^ar on the spot. The 
Americans, confounded by the wholly unexpected events 
which had shortly before occurred, and having no coju- 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 347 


mander, seemed to lose their wonted efficiency as an 
organized body, though, individually, they were very far 
from being demoralized. Soon rallying under Kemper, 
they drove the enemy from the walls, then out of the town, 
and finally across the river — the fight continuing until 
night ended it. The Spanish loss was very heavy. Their 
opponents being on the defensive, suffered of course com- 
paratively little. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

Sir, spare your threats : 

The bug which you would fright me with, I seek. 

Winter's Tale. 

We Ve caught the woodcock, and will keep him muffled. 

All's Well That Ends Well. 

M AGEE’S bravery being universally conceded, and his 
honor undoubted, — at least, until this unfortunate 
event in his life, — all were at a loss to account for his 
proposed surrender — most unmanly, to say the least 
of it, when the prospect for repelling the enemy was cer- 
tainly fair, and when not a man out of his whole command 
was disposed to yield. 

The probability is, that he was no longer the fiery, 
brave, energetic officer he was when he organized and led 
forth this expedition from the borders. The seeds of that 
wasting disease, consumption, had, for a long time, been 
rankling in his system, and the hardships and exposure to 
which this campaign had subjected him had given them 
an impetus of development which fearfully exhausted his 
physical powers. In proportion as these failed him, and 


348 MOKE TMAi^ SHE COULD BEAR* 


the lamp of life burned low in the socket, his courage and 
energy doubtless sank with them, until, by the time Salcedo 
sought the fatal conference, he had become so wasted and 
unnerved by the ravages of the disease as hardly to be re- 
sponsible for his conduct in a situation so trying. Instances 
are by no means wanting of a similar effect produced by 
physical suffering on commanders of unquestioned bravery. 
Of these, Texas has since furnished her proportion. Nay — 
near this very place, thirty-five years later, the ill-starred 
but dauntless Fannin, unnerved by the sufferings produced 
by a severe wound, surrendered his command, when it was 
said the hope of triumph still cheered his men, and under 
circumstances which the unscathed Fannin would have 
thought far from desperate. The gallant Texan, too, who 
led the famous “ MLer Expedition,” is defended by his 
friends from the charge of untimely surrender, — at a 
moment when victory hovered around his banner, — by the 
plea, that the severity of his wound had unfitted him for 
his position. Most brave men, however, retain all their 
nerve under such circumstances ; though ever so horribly 
mangled in body, their spirit remains unshaken to the 
last. Magee may not have been one of these. His wily, 
cold-blooded, wholly unscrupulous antagonist may, delib- 
erately and purposely, have taken advantage of this shat- 
tered condition of his health, to frighten him into surren- 
der by gross misrepresentations or downright falsehoods 
regarding his own resources, present, or expected in the 
shape of reinforcements; and then may have backed these 
lies so effectually with threatening to end the matter, if 
successful, with one of those horrible scenes of butchery, 
for which the Gachupins were noted, that this poor, suffer- 
ing wreck and shadow of manhood may have been intimi- 
dated into a disgraceful surrender. Our sole choice lying 
between this extenuating view and barefaced perfidy, we 
are strongly inclined to choose the former. 


MORE THAK SHE COULD BEAR. 349 


Magee did not leave his quarters during the fierce strug- 
gle going on around him. The emphatic and indignant re- 
jection, by his men, of the terms he had negotiated, had cha- 
grined him no little. Being too feeble, from his malady, and 
too exhausted by recent excitement, to stand up, or even 
to sit up, throughout the fight, he lay, most of the time, on 
his bed. Occasionally he would rise and stagger to a win- 
dow, whence he watched — with what concern can never 
be known — the combatants as they exchanged hardiments 
in the deadly strife. 

Night closed upon them at last, — and he could see no 
more. But when he, soon afterwards, caught the triumph- 
ant shout of the Americans, which told him of a glorious 
victory, a sense of utter shame and disgrace came instantly 
over him. What little life he had left was nearly extin- 
guished by the shock, and he straightway sank back on 
his bed in the agony of remorseful despair. 

It was at this moment that some one stole softly into his 
room without any warning knock. He could see a stal- 
wart form gliding stealthily along the wall between him 
and the window, until it stopped close beside him. 

“ Who are you ? ” demanded Magee, in feeble tones, at 
the same time rising to his elbow, and feeling his flesh 
“ creep ” with terror, as the apparition stood directly be- 
fore him, towering and motionless. 

The only answer was a clear cold laugh, — not loud, but 
having the genuine fiendish ring, so far as we mortals may 
judge at all of fiendish mirth. 

At the unearthly sound, Magee quickly shifted his posi- 
tion to the farther side of the bed, and, as he did so, said, 
scarcely above his breath : 

“ I never heard that laugh before — nor any like it ! ” 

“No — you never heard me laugh: but youVe heard 
me groan. Magee! I come to you besmirched with powder, 
30 


350 MOEE THAN SHE COULD BEAK. 


and red with blood, that, while my hand’s in, I may play 
my little game with you all the better.” 

“ Did I ever do you a wrong, that you threaten me so 
savagely ? ” 

“ The scars on my back would freshen your memory, if 
you could see them. Perhaps naming them will do it.” 

“ You are one of Gatewood’s men, then ? ” 

“Ay — ay — and this is our day of settlement — and 
I ’m glad I can pay you in full. Here ’s for the blood your 
stripes drew from me,” said he, taking from his belt a long 
knife which gleamed in the light of the window. “ But, 
for the fire-scars which you branded into my flesh, you 
shall get enough of therrij this night, in hell ! ” 

The intruder, as he said this, stalked around to the other 
side of the bed, that he might be nearer his intended 
victim, still holding the avenging blade in his hand. 

“ It’s but a poor revenge,” said Magee: “by killing me, 
you only anticipate, by a few days at most, the work of 
disease.” 

“ That may be. But, then, the pleasure of it ! To guide 
this blade across your d — d throat at last ! To feel it, as 
it cuts in ! ” 

“ It was cowardly in you — what is your name ? ” 

“ I am the devil.” 

“ I can almost believe you. It was cowardly in you, I 
say, Mr. Devil, to wait till I was so near dead to do this.” 

“ Would you have fought me, if I had challenged you?” 

“ In health, I would have fought the devil, upon occa- 
sion ; and you say you ’re the devil.” 

“Yes — and you might have killed him, too. Magee, I 
would have been afraid of you in open fight: but I’ve 
often watched my chance to kill you. Nothing else could 
have made me serve under you. I would have shot you 
when your back was turned — stabbed you in the dark — 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 351 

poisoned you — or killed you, any other way — but I 
knew, if they found it out, they ’d make short work of me; 
for you were all the rage then. But you Ve disgraced 
yourself to-day, and I might cut your throat before the 
whole d — d army, and not a man raise a finger.” 

“ So you would n’t be ashamed to kill a dying man — 
not even publicly?” 

“Yes: shame might prevent me — but nothing else 
would, if you were the man. There ’s no public here, 
though.” 

So saying, he strode a step forward, which placed him 
in contact with the bed ; then reaching forth his armed 
hand, he was about to execute forthwith his bloody pur- 
pose, and that, too, as was evident, in the most summary 
manner, when Magee, without attempting any resistance, 
or even stirring from the spot where he lay, said: 

“So you will kill me?” 

“I will, by God!” 

“ And nothing can stop you ? ” 

“ Nothing this side o’ hell — and hell ’ll have to be 
smart to do it.” 

“Then I’ll tell you, man — or devil — or Whatever you 
may be — a secret : that, in killing me, you but do me a 
favor. I long for death. I was wishing for it when you 
entered. The few days’ respite that my disease would give 
me, seemed entirely too long to look forward to, and I could 
not bear the thought of waking, even once more, to the 
morning light, to face my shame. You thought me fright- 
ened when you entered. So I was, — but it was only a 
supernatural dread : you came in so much like a ghost. 
As soon as I found you were real flesh and blood, and 
learned your deadly purpose, I looked upon you as a 
friend.” 

Whether or not Magee spoke thus with entire sincerity, 


352 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

may be doubted. He probably strained the point a little, 
in order to dash the sweets of vengeance which his grim 
assassin was about to sip. 

“/your friend?” shrieked the man, almost beside him- 
self with rage. 

AVith these words, he clutched Magee by the throat, 
either because his fury came upon him so suddenly that he 
did not once think of using the knife, although it was 
drawn ready in his other hand, or because he wished to 
torture him a while before killing him. 

If the latter, he widely miscalculated either the force, or 
the length of his gripe, — for his victim never moved after 
that powerful hand was taken from his throat. 

Finding that he was indeed dead, Crabtree — for it was 
he — the same who had uttered such a terrible threat 
against Magee during Wynne’s interview with the men at 
Camp AVildwood — stole out as softly as he had entered 
but a few moments before, — leaving only the remains of 
the commander of the patriot army, but yesterday the idol 
of all, whose sad fate was, to be disgraced — deposed — 
and thus murdered — within a few brief hours. 

The enemy made no further demonstrations, but contin- 
ued in their quarters about a week, when they raised the 
siege and commenced their retreat to San Antonio. A 
few days later, Kemper set out in pursuit with his whole 
force, — to which, just before starting, he had received an 
accession sufficient to supply all losses up to this date. 
About one-half of this small reinforcement were Ameri- 
cans, the other being Coshatta Indians, (known, then, as 
Q.uachattas,) the remnant of a brave tribe living on the 
upper Sabine, who had always been friendly w'ith the 
Americans, and bitterly hostile to Spaniards. 

Salcedo soon hearing of the invaders’ approach, sent out, 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 353 

to meet them, General Herrera, and another General who 
had just brought reinforcements dispatched from the inte- 
rior provinces by the viceroy. Their whole force amounted 
to about twenty-five hundred men. The first information 
the Americans had of the enemy was given when within 
nine or ten miles of San Antonio, by a picket firing into 
* their right flank, the left being protected by the San An- 
tonio River — here twenty or thirty yards wide — along 
which they were marching. 

The Mexican force was ambushed on a slightly elevated 
ridge, which w'as covered with chaparral. This ridge, run- 
ning along between the San Antonio and the Salado, — a 
small creek, which empties into that river, at an acute an- 
gle near this point, — was crowned, about the centre of the 
royal line of battle, by several pieces of artillery. An 
order was given by the American commander, that, at the 
tap of the drum, a general charge should be made. The 
men were to advance to within thirty yards of the enemy, 
fire three rounds, load again, and charge along the whole 
line. The Coshattas, on the extreme right, misapprehend- 
ing the order, charged sooner than they should have done, 
and consequently suffered greatly, losing some of their 
principal braves in a hand-to-hand struggle. The survi- 
vors, however, stood their ground, and fought with un- 
daunted bravery, killing a great many of the enemy. 

Meanwhile, the Americans came up from the centre and 
left, and so coolly and deliberately carried out the order 
of loading and firing repeatedly at short range, that the 
enemy became demoralized, overshot their opponents, who 
were a little below them on the hill-side, and when the 
general charge was made, at once turned and fled along 
the entire line, despite the many gallant efforts of their 
officers to rally them. Their loss in killed and wounded 
was nearly one thousand, a very large proportion being 
30 * 


S51 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


officers. But few prisoners were taken. The Americans 
lost between thirty and forty. 

The victors now pushed on to San Antonio, and pro- 
ceeded at once to invest it. Seeing this in contemplation, 
Salcedo sent out a flag of truce, and after a good deal of 
parleying, perceiving that he could not help himself, 
agreed to surrender unconditionally, — by which the Ala- 
mo — a very strong fortress — the town, and the entire 
garrison fell into the hands of the Americans. 

For the purpose of formally complying with these terms, 
Salcedo rode forth and offered his sword, first to Captain 
Taylor, who referred him to Kemper. Kemper, in his 
turn, referred him to General Bernardo Gutierrez, as com- 
mander-in-chief. The proud Gachupin’s hatred getting 
the better of his discretion on seeing his old foe triumphant 
before him, and on finding himself in a fair way to be per- 
sonally humiliated before so many witnesses, was unable, 
or unwilling, to endure so much. Accordingly, in an evil 
moment, flown as he was with insolence, he advanced in 
front of that commander, and disdaining to hand him his 
sword, as he had politely enough done in the case of Kem- 
per and his subordinate, ran the thing into the ground 
right under Bernardo’s nose, and turning scornfully on his 
heel, left it there. Bernardo, after a while, took it up ; 
but the insulting act of Salcedo, and still more, the man- 
ner in which it was done, rankled in the vindictive and 
already deeply wronged Mexican’s breast, — destined to 
break forth, full soon, in such vengeful guise as will never 
be forgotten in the bloody annals of butcheries. 


MORE THA^' SHE COULD BEAR. 365 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

Now by my faith and honor of my kin, 

To strike him dead, I hold it no great sin. 

Borneo and Juliet. 

Nay — soft I pray you : I know a trick worth two of that. 

King Henry VI. 

S CxYRCELY was Bernardo established in his quarters in 
the town, before he was visited by Juan Delgado. This 
young man’s sole object in the war, as avowed by himself 
in his conversation, previously given, with the Senorita 
Isabella, was to avenge the cold-blooded murder of his 
father. As before stated, he was at one time, while in the 
Neutral Ground, on the point of returning to San Antonio 
to assassinate Salcedo, who had caused the murder to be 
perpetrated. But on learning that the latter had left that 
place for the city of Mexico, he was constrained to forego 
his vengeance for a while. When the campaign opened, 
he was nominally taken on Bernardo’s so-called staff — a 
position which was not only a sinecure, but one which had 
neither honor nor emolument appertaining to it. From what 
now speedily followed, it is quite probable that the young 
man, who was by no means wanting in spirit, sought so 
inglorious a position merely because it would enable him 
to leave the army at any time, for the accomplishment of 
certain side-purposes, without prejudicing the service, — if, 
indeed, he had not the General’s assurance that such privi- 
lege should be accorded him whenever he might see fit to 
ask it. Be this as it may, on hearing, soon after the expe- 
dition set out from Nacogdoches, that Salcedo had returned 
to San Antonio, he readily obtained his General’s consent 
to go forth on the hunt of him. 


3oG MORE THAX SHE COULD BEAR. 


When he reached the latter town (in disguise), he ascer- 
tained that Salcedo had, several days before, started out, 
at the head of the royal forces, to meet the Americans at 
La Bahia. There being of course no hope of reaching that 
tyrant while surrounded by his array, the young man 
promptly set himself about doing what he thought was the 
next best thing in his power to do under the circumstances 
— secretly organizing in his native town a company of 
Mexicans, who might be ready to join the patriots as soon 
as they should arrive. 

“ We ’ve caught the monster at last. General,” said he, 
gloatingly, as soon as he had greeted Bernardo. 

“Yes,” replied the other, with an oath. “And now the 
difficulty is how to deal with him.” 

“What!” exclaimed Delgado, elevating his voice to a 
high key, while the fire gleamed in his great dark eyes. 
“ You not know what to do with Salcedo f Is this possible. 
General Bernardo?” 

“ Young man, don’t let your excitement proclaim our 
designs to the whole city : speak a little lower, if you 
please.” 

“ General, I care not if the whole city, and the whole 
world into the bargain, know that I ’m resolved to have the 
blood of that infernal villain.” 

“ But what, if such a broad announcement of it should 
foil its execution ?” 

“ Is he not in our power? and are not you commander- 
in-chief? What more can be needed? Do you but give 
me the order — ” 

“ The obstacle in the way is not what you conceive it to 
be. Nor does it lie Acre,” said Bernardo, striking his 
breast. 

“Then,” replied Juan, “I am wholly at a loss to — ” 

“The difficulty,” interrupted the General, “lies with the 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 357 

Americans. I know them too well to believe they would 
ever consent to such an act.” 

“ I say we must have Salcedo’s blood, let come what 
may. D — n the Americans ! Have they come into our 
country to dictate our treatment of the murderers of our 
families ? If so, let them go to hell ! And the sooner, the 
better.” 

Delgado was quite sincere in all he said. In fact, he 
was so near that point of temporary insanity which is at 
present the rifest plea for homicide, that he had become 
perfectly regardless of consequences, provided only ven- 
geance could be visited upon the incarnate fiend, who, after 
causing him so many disappointments in the matter of 
reaching him, had at last come within his swoop. 

Bernardo, however, though sufficiently vindictive by 
nature, contemplated the thing in a somewhat different 
light. Vengeance was much with him — as, indeed, with 
what Mexican is it not? — but still it was only a secondary 
object. He was by no means unambitious; and having 
already been chosen, by the Military Council, Provisional 
President of the young Republic, he had good reason to 
think that, by the exercise of only a moderate degree of 
prudence, he would be chosen permanently to that exalted 
station. But he well knew that, if, by any rash act of his, 
the Americans should be driven from the service, all these 
personal aspirations must inevitably be dashed — to say 
nothing of the national welfare. 

“ That may be your view, Juan,” he replied, with great 
coolness, — “ but it ’s not mine. We owe our successes, 
thus far, to the Americans. Our countrymen, I am sorry 
to say, have as yet done little or nothing. To be sure, 
they may do something, now that our allies have so auspi- 
ciously opened the war in this quarter ; and I sincerely 
hope they will But let them do their best, they cannot, 


358 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

unaided, expel these Gachiipins from our native province — 
at least they cannot at present ; nor is it at all likely they 
will be able to effect their expulsion for years to come.” 

Delgado, of course, was not convinced. I say “of 
course,” because it is my firm belief that, since the creation 
of the world, no one in his particular frame of mind ever 
was convinced that he was not already in the right. If 
an angel had come down at that moment — or, indeed, at 
any moment within the previous twelvemonth — bearing 
credentials of his angelic nature, and his divine mission as 
unimpeachable ‘as those required by a Eadical Congres- 
sional Committee of a Democratic member elect, and had 
said to him, “ Young man, God bade me tell thee, thou 
shalt not kill,” the chances are ten to one that he would 
not only have disregarded the mandate, but would have 
bidden the celestial messenger go to the same place to 
which he had just before consigned the Americans for 
their interference in the internal afiairs of Mexico. 

“ In the name of God,” he exclaimed, “is that fiend to 
go unpunished ? If we do nothing with him now, when 
can it be hoped justice will be visited on him ? Why, sir, 
he may not go to hell for twenty years yet, unless we send 
him there now. Do you know, sir, that he is treated, at 
this very moment, more like a gentleman than like the 
pure devil that he is? ” 

“Surely no one should know it better than I do, — since 
he is so treated by my express order.” 

“ By your order ? ” cried Delgado, with a scowl that ill 
became his youthful and really handsome face. “Then, 
General Bernardo, I am done with you forever ! Though 
not with /tim.” 

So saying, he turned on his heel, and was about with- 
drawing without so much as a parting salutation. 

“ Come back, young man,” said Bernardo, with a pecu- 
liar laugh. 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 359 


• The other faced about, to hear what the General had fur- 
ther to say, for there was something reassuring not only in 
Bernardo’s laugh, but in his manner of speaking, and even 
in the tones of his voice, 

“ I see,” Bernardo went on, “ that you are quite as keen 
for this thing as I am, which is keen enough, God knows. 
The only difference is in the extent of our projects. Your 
sole aim is Salcedo, I believe? ” 

“ Yes. I have thought of no other. And yours — ? ” 

“Mine takes a much wider sweep. I would include not 
only Salcedo, but Herrera and Cordero, with their respec- 
tive, staffs — fourteen in all. Here is the list,” he added, 
taking a paper from a drawer near at hand, and reading 
the names aloud : “ ‘ Manuel de Salcedo, Governor of 
Texas; Simon de Herrera, Governor of New Leon; Ex- 
Governor Cordero ; Lieutenant-Colonel Geronimo.’ Then 
come five or six captains, three or four lieutenants, an en- 
sign, and a citizen.” 

“ That would make a pretty good cleaning out, for Tex- 
as,” remarked Delgado, evidently startled, if not shocked. 

“ And you shall do the work,” said Bernardo, “ if you 
will but promise to do it faithfully.” 

“But, General, not one of these, except Salcedo, ever 
harmed me or mine, — save in so far as they have fought 
against our cause. Why then should I — ” 

“ Ask not my reasons. Let it suffice that I think the 
general good demands it. The only question is. Will you 
do it ? ” 

“ General, I always regarded Cordero and Herrera as the 
best Spaniards we have ever had in this province ; every 
one so regards them.” 

“ That only makes them the more effectual obstacles to 
our independence.” 

“ Must such men stand on the same level, then, with a 


360 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


monster, — and be butchered for their very virtues, as he 
for his villaiiies ? ” 

“ Well, as you choose, Juan Delgado. I see you are not 
equal to this thing. So, I will get some one who is. Go 
your way — I have such a one in my eye.” 

“ General, I must be Salcedo’s executioner.” 

“ One might think you ought to be, young man, consid- 
ering whose son you are.” 

“Are those, indeed, your only terms?” 

“ It is but breath thrown away to ask for other.” 

“ Then, it must be done. Yes — rather than miss, I will 
do even that.” 

“I’m glad to hear you talk so reasonably. Now let’s 
about it. It admits of no delay. It is a deed whose long 
contemplation may endanger its performance. The much 
safer plan is to make it a memory at once. However much 
memory may sting the living, it can hardly quicken the 
dead. It would be useless to ask our American friends to 
sanction such work as this: it must be done by strata- 
gem ; and if you can only manage to pick up a squad of 
desperate Mexicans, who will obey implicitly, asking no 
questions, I think I have a plan by which the whole thing 
can be accomplished within twenty-four hours.” 

“There can be no difficulty,” said the young man, 
“ about getting the services of such a squad, so long as my 
company is within reach.” 

“Do you, indeed, command a company here?” 

“Ay, sir — and you may believe they are men who will 
not be over-scrupulous about such a trifle as slitting a few 
Gachupin windpipes. But, General, what plea can we use 
to induce these Americans to deliver the prisoners over to 
us? Are you willing, as generalissimo, to issue a per- 
emptory order to that effect, — without the awkwardness 
of an explanation ?” 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 361 ' 

“Oh, you may be sure I have already laid my train to 
that end ; and for doing so, you were, only a moment since, 
on the eve of leaving me in disgust.” 

“ Do you allude to your kind treatment of the prisoners ? 
for it was that which disgusted me.” 

“ That is what I allude to.” 

“ I confess, I can’t see what you could expect to accom- 
plish by^that.” 

“No, Juan — you’re too impetuous to plot yourself, or 
even to see the merits of a plot after it is hatched out by 
another. But I am older and cooler, and, so, can look 
ahead a little way. Not satisfied with the proposals of the 
Americans as to the kind treatment of the captives, I went 
much further, and, in my turn, proposed to put them on 
their parole of honor, and even to allow them the liberty 
of the town — besides other privileges.” 

“Ay, now I see,” said Delgado. “Your object was to 
blind everybody to the vengeance that you would not 
forego, but were willing to postpone for a little season, 
that success might be assured. But suppose the Ameri- 
cans had consented to all this: Salcedo might have effected 
his escape!” 

“ I knew they would not consent.” 

“By my father’s soul! had I seen him ranging the 
streets, I would have buried this up to the hilt in his black 
heart, even at risk of being so served myself the very next 
moment.” 

As the young man spoke, he drew a small, keen dagger 
from beneath his vest far enough to flash it in Bernardo’s 
eyes, then, slipping it back to its sheath, went on : 

“ In fact, when I was about to leave you so abruptly, a 
few minutes since, outraged by your seeming generosity to 
that monster, I had resolved to make my way hence, 
straight to his quarters, and stab him to death on the spot, 

" 31 


362 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


despite all the American bayonets that could have been 
levelled at me. But I much prefer to play with him a 
while — as he did with my poor father and mother — on 
the awful verge of eternity.” 

Here a shade of sadness swept the handsome face of the 
speaker, greatly heightening, for a moment, his natural 
beauty, and well calculated to excite a touch of pity in the 
beholder’s heart ; (had there been any beholder there with 
a heart susceptible of pity, which was by no means the 
case ;) but it was only for a moment. Vengeance again 
mounted up from within and drove the soft usurper away. 

*‘You shall have a chance to ‘play with him ’to your 
heart’s content,” said Bernardo, “if you will but hearken 
and obey. But first, of the stratagem I have concocted to 
get hold of these Gachupins. We will imagine a ship at 
Matagorda Bay, which, by information lately arrived, will 
sail in a few days for New Orleans. That is the whole 
basis of my project. Whether any ship is lying there or 
not, or whether any such information has reached here to 
that effect, matters little to you. In the next place, I will 
call the American oflScers together, for a consultation 
touching the disposition to be made of the prisoners ; and 
after giving my views as to the unavoidable insecurity of 
guarding them here, where many of the citizens still adhere, 
ill heart, to the royal cause, I will tell them of the oppor- 
tunity which presents at the Gulf, to send the prisoners to 
the United States, on their parole of honor not to return to 
this country during the war. I shall do this on the avowed 
pretence of holding their word more secure than guards — 
for you know, when a prisoner is not on parole he has a 
perfect right to escape whenever he can. My real opinion 
of a Gachupin’s word you well know to be very different. 

“ Should the Americans accede to this proposition — which 
I doubt not they will do — you, Juan, shall escort them 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 363 


to — Well, whether they ever reach the Gulf or not must 
depend entirely on you. And I — ” 

“ Don’t doubt, General, but they shall reach the Gulf — 
the Great Gulf — that Gulf of Gulfs — the bottomless Pit, 
I mean.” 

“ And I freely confess my confidence,” the General went 
on, without much heeding the interruption, “that you will 
faithfully discharge the important duty devolved on you. 
I am glad to trust the matter into such safe hands. There 
is one thing, however, which you must remember as cer- 
tainly as though your life were to be the forfeit of forget- 
ting it : not only that the whole responsibility and odium 
of the result of this thing — let the result be what it may — 
is to rest on you, henceforth and forever, but that you will 
exculpate me from all complicity in laying this plan. You 
must swear until you are black — should the necessity 
arise — that I knew nothing whatever of your intentions.” 

“You need have no fear. General,” replied Delgado, 
with a gloating laugh, “ of incurring the least particle of 
either the shame or the merit that may attach to the affair. 
I can assure you, I shall be but too proud of the catas- 
trophes for the remainder of ray days — be they long or 
short — to allow the world to shift it to other shoulders.” 

With this understanding, they parted. 


3C4 MOHE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


CHAPTEK XL. 


Oh, you are well-tun’d now, 

But ITl set down the pegs that make this music. 


Othello. 

A young man 


More fit to do another such offence 

Than die for this. Meamre for Measure. 


Duke.— Had you a special warrant for the deed ? 
Provost . — No, ray good lord, it was by private message. 
Duke.— For which I do discharge you of your office. 


Measure for Measure. 


EXT morning, Delgado’s company, commanded for 



JLi the time by the first lieutenant, left town, escorting 
Salcedo, Herrera, Cordero, and others, — all of whom, from 
having had constantly before them the gloomy prospect of a 
dungeon, or even worse, were now cheered at the idea of being 
])]aced so soon in a state of comparative freedom ; and as 
they talked and joked with the men who escorted them, 
they seemed far more like comrades than prisoners. The 
American officers who had gathered on the plaza to see the 
captives start, on observing in them such a flow of spirits, 
waved them a friendly adieu, and bade them God speed. 
They no more doubted that Bernardo intended to keep good 
faith in this matter, than they doubted the justice of 
heaven itself. He had, to serve his own bloody purpose, 
played so deftly the part of a generous enemy, that they 
were completely blinded to his treacherous designs. 

Delgado himself chose, as yet, to linger behind. This 
was an all-important part of the blinding process. His 
appearance at the head of the escort would instantly have 
transformed that gay cortege into the semblance of a 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


3G5 


funeral procession. This, of course, was, of all things, to be 
avoided, until beyond the sight of the Americans ; for it 
would inevitably have led to a protest on the part of Sal- 
cedo and his companions, — their more humane enemies 
would have interfered, and the scheme of dreadful retribu- 
tion must have aborted. 

A few minutes after they had taken their departure, 
Delgado rode, alone, from the opposite side of the town, 
and after making a circuit, forded the river; then taking 
the road that wound along its eastern bank, soon overtook 
the procession. Salcedo had not seen him since that fear- 
ful day in the records of the Delgado family, when he had 
forced him and his mother to be present at the execution 
of the father and husband. We can therefore but faintly 
imagine the horror which struck through the tyrant’s 
flinty heart, when he saw the scowling youth come thun- 
dering up in the rear, — like a black cloud fraught with 
vengeance, — and take his place at the head of the escort. 

All that is known of the precise mode in which this hor- 
rible deed was executed, was elicited from the lips of the 
young man himself during his informal trial. 

It would have required at least a week to escort the pris- 
oners to the Gulf, and return. Inasmuch, therefore, as 
Delgado and his entire company were in town, next morn- 
ing, in their quarters, the American ofiicers, who had 
pledged their honor for the safe conduct of the captives, 
suspecting treachery, and learning that he had sallied forth 
from the town soon after the escort started, and had taken 
command of it, caused him to be arrested and brought 
before them. 

“ Gentlemen ! ” he began, as soon as he had come into 
their presence, and before any one had time to propound a 
query, “I know exactly what I am brought here for, 
although I have neither inquired of any one, nor been 
31 * 


3C6 


MOEE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


informed ; and I wish you to understand, once for all, that 
you need fear no concealment on my part. I alone am 
responsible for the deed which shocks you.” 

“Were you present at the butchery?” asked Colonel 
Kemper, “ or did you only — ” 

“ Present? My God ! yes, sir. I would n’t have missed 
my share in that for the whole world. Present, indeed ! 
Why, gentlemen ! I killed Salcedo myself. I stripped 
him : I tied his hands behind him : I whetted my knife on 
the sole of his boot, right before his face, that he might see 
it, and hear it, before he felt it. I then asked him if he 
remembered the day when he had me dragged from my 
cell, and my mother from our home, that we might see my 
father beheaded — to hear of it merely would not satisfy 
him. And you may be sure, gentlemen, I did not fail to 
ask him, further, if he remembered how he ordered the 
blood from the streaming neck to be sprinkled over our 
persons — as coolly as you may have seen a priest order his 
congregation to be sprinkled with holy water from the 
censer.* I asked him if he knew my mother had died from 
the shock. And after I had thus jogged his memory — 
yes, f/mn, in that proudest moment of my life, with this 
very blade — this blade — here it is, gentlemen !” he said. 

Lest my readers may think I have invented this horrible portion 
of young Delgado’s story, I will give an extract from a letter which can 
be found in Niles" Eeguter, vol. iv. p. 280. It is written to the Editor: 

“ Pinkney viLLE, M. T , May 28th, 1813. 

“ . . . Col. Samuel Kemper, wdto commanded in the action fought 
near St. Antonio, has arrived and is now here. From his information 
it appears that the killing of the fourteen prisoners was without the 
approbation of the Americans, and by the express order of the genera- 
lissimo, Bernardo. . . . The young Creole who was charged with 

the execution of this order was one who had, on a former occasion, wit- 
nessed many cruelties of Salcedo, and among them the beheading of his 
father, at ivhich his mother loas also compelled to he present; and by 
order of Salcedo the blood from the bleeding head of his father was sprin- 
kled over his unfortunate mother” 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 367 


plucking from his belt a knife uncleansed of yesterday^s 
blood, and shaking it aloft with all the terrible grace and 
beauty of a thoroughly roused tiger — “with this knife, and 
with this hand, I cut the villain’s throat from ear to ear. 
If you want my life, take it. I care but little: my chief 
mission is done — and I thank my God that he has spared 
me to do it.” 

“ How were the other prisoners killed ? ” asked one of 
the officers, after the awful pause which ensued at the end 
of this outburst had continued for a full minute. 

“ Much in the same way, I suppose. I was too busy 
myself to observe what my men were doing, or even to 
think of them at all. I gave them no order — in fact, I 
said not a word to them: from the moment I caught sight 
of Salcedo, everything else and everybody else passed from 
my mind. But I did set them the example I have told 
you of, — and I suppose they were not slow to follow it, for 
when I had finished my part of the work, I saw the other 
prisoners lying around me, as dead and as naked as 
Salcedo.” 

The officers now put their heads together, and there w^as 
a low hum of conversation going on between them for sev- 
eral minutes, — though nothing of what they said could be 
heard where the prisoner stood, quite alone. 

“ I believe he is a madman,” said one. 

“If not,” said another, “it would indeed be a wonder; 
for he certainly has had enough to drive him mad. We 
all have heard of that fiendish deed of Salcedo’s before, 
but I suppose we had forgotten all about it. I certainly 
had — or I should never have favored treating him so 
kindly.” 

“ Well,” said a third, “whether insane or not, we may as 
well discharge him at once. Considering the provocation, 
there is no one here, I ’m sure, who would wish to punish 
him for killing Salcedo just so soon as he got a chance — 


368 MOKE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

though one might well wish the deed had been done after 
a less inhuman fashion.” 

“ Gentlemen,” said Colonel Kemper, who, thus far, had 
been a mere listener, “ I cheerfully agree with you, that we 
ought to release this unfortunate young man. Whether 
the butchery he has perpetrated be justifiable or not, I do 
not propose to discuss. But, convinced as I am, that any 
one of us would have done the same thing — though, I 
hope, in a more civilized way — I cannot see how we 
could consistently — or conscientiously, if you please — 
impose a punishment on him, even to the extent of ‘break- 
ing ’ him. But, at the same time, we must not lose sight 
of the very important fact that our honor was solemnly 
pledged for the safety of these prisoners, and therefore it 
behooves us to do something more than we have just done 
to clear our skirts in this matter. I consider myself in- 
volved to a greater extent, personally, than the rest of you, 
from the fact that, under certain representations from Ber- 
nardo, I signed a peremptory order directing the officers 
of the guard to deliver the prisoners into the hands of 
such of his subordinates as he might designate to receive 
them.” 

“ What, then, do you propose to do. Colonel ? ” asked 
Major Ross. 

“ I propose,” replied Kemper, “ that Bernardo be ex- 
amined informally. I have my suspicions that he is the 
guilty one. If he cannot give a consistent and satisfactory 
account of his part in this miserable affair, he ought 
then to be tried by' a regular court-martial, without the 
least fear or favor as to the exalted position with which we 
have entrusted him, — and if proved to be responsible for 
so gross an act of perfidy, he should be at once deposed.” 

“Colonel,” suggested Major Ross, “before we discharge 
Delgado, suppose you ask him a few questions about Ber- 
nardo’s part in this matter," 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 369 

This being agreed on, Kemper began : 

“ Captain Delgado, will you be so good as to inform us, 
so far as you may know, what agency, direct or indirect, 
General Bernardo had in this killing?” 

“Yesterday, I made the General a friendly visit at his 
quarters,” answered Delgado, whose fury had, by this 
time, reacted into a comparative calm. “In the course of 
our conversation, after remarking on the insecurity of the 
prisoners, so long as they should remain here, he said he 
had information that a vessel was lying at Matagorda 
Bay, w^hich would soon sail for Kew Orleans ; and that, if 
he had at his service a company of Mexicans, he would 
like to send the prisoners off to that point.” 

“ Why did he wish them to be Mexicans ? ” 

“ I suppose he thought the Americans could not well be 
spared.” 

“ Did he assign that as his reason ? ” 

“No — but he had just before said their presence here 
on the frontier was indispensable.” 

“Well — that’s much the same thing. What next. 
Captain ? ” 

“ Then I offered the services of my command.” 

“ Was he aware, before, that you had a company here? 
In plainer terms, do you think he intended to hint to you 
that he would like to have the services of your company 
in particular ? ” 

“He knev^ nothing at all, until that moment, about my 
company — not even of its existence.” 

“ He accepted your offer without hesitation ? ” 

“ He did.” 

“ Did he know of Salcedo’s inhuman treatment of your 
family ? ” 

“ Oh, yes — he must have known of that : it is known, I 
believe, to everybody in Texas.” 

“ Did he give you any intimation as to what your treat- 


370 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


ment of the prisoners should be ? whether you were to treat 
them kindly, or the reverse ? ” 

“ He impressed on me the importance of escorting them 
safely through to the Gulf. Said he had entire confidence 
that I would discharge the duty faithfully, and that he was 
glad he was able to commit the matter to such safe hands.’^ 
“ And you promised to perform your duty faithfully ? ” 

“ I did. And, by God ! I have kept my promise.” 

“ Do you think the General suspected for a moment that 
you would keep it in that sense ? ” 

“His language, which I have just given you, gentlemen, 
does n’t sound much like it. I have nothing else to judge 
from.” 

Colonel Kemper’s proposition to examine Bernardo 
being now unanimously agreed to, he was summoned — 
Delgado having first been discharged from custody. Al- 
though the General might well have fallen back on the 
dignity of his supreme ofiice and have refused compliance 
with this irregular summons from his inferiors in rank, he 
knew too well the tone of character of the American offi- 
cers and their followers, as well as their importance to him- 
self, to assume towards them any such preposterous attitude. 
He, therefore, soon made his appearance. While waiting 
for him, however, one of the captains, who had stepped out 
to take a stroll of recreation on the Plaza, returned and 
said he had just heard the hint thrown out by a citizen 
that the pretended information on which Bernardo had 
based his plan of sending the prisoners off, must have been 
manufactured out of whole-cloth, — since there was no vessel 
at the Gulf, and had not been for weeks ; and that, in the 
present distracted state of the country, it was not at all 
likely there would be one there for a long time to come — 
all trade having been destroyed. On this hint mainly 
they determined to rest in support of their charges. 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 371 


“ General,” said Colonel Kemper, soon after Bernardo 
had entered and gracefully saluted those who awaited him, 
“we are forced by late occurrences to assume toward you 
an anomalous and very unpleasant attitude, — which, how- 
ever, we sincerely hope may be only temporary.” 

Bernardo bowed politely, and smiled, as he did so, a 
pleasant smile. 

“We are not altogether satisfied. General,” Kemper 
went on, “ that you had not some agency, direct or other, 
in the horrible murders that were perpetrated yesterday a 
mile or two below this town.” 

The General started a little from his position, with a 
surprised look, affected or real, — though, if the former, it 
was certainly well acted. 

“ Would you be willing,” continued Kemper, “ to answer 
a few interrogatories bearing on that point ? ” 

“ Most assuredly. Colonel,” Bernardo said ; “ nothing 
could give me greater pleasure than to have so good an 
opportunity of clearing myself of so grave a charge. Proceed 
with your inquiries, gentlemen, if you please. Or, rather, 
I heg you to do so, for the sake of my own reputation and 
that of the patriot army. And I sincerely hope you will 
not stop short of anything which may aid in sifting the 
matter so thoroughly that there may be no ugly suspicions 
about it hereafter.” 

Bernardo, in deporting himself thus confidently, had, of 
course, taken it for granted that Delgado — who he was 
aware had already been before this body — had faithfully 
kept his pledge, by not saying anything to implicate him. 
And in this assumption, as we have seen, he was quite right. 

“ General, we suppose you have long ago heard of Sal- 
cedo’s cruel treatment of the Delgados ? ” was the next 
query propounded. 

‘ “Oh, yes — it is known throughout the land.” 


372 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

“ Then v/e do not clearly see why, after pledging sol- 
emnly your honor, along with ours, that the prisoners 
should be kindly treated, you should place them, at once, 
and without any consultation with us, in the power of one 
of that deeply wronged family.” 

“ There was no other organized company, or squad, to be 
found,” replied Bernardo, “except among the American 
forces ; and I did not hold it safe to send any of them so 
far away.” 

“ What instructions, if any, did you give Captain Del- 
gado ? ” 

I told him I wished him to escort the prisoners to Mat- 
agorda Bay, where there was a vessel lying, which would 
take them to New Orleans.” 

“ Did you try at all to impress on him the importance 
of performing the duty faithfully?” 

“ Yes — I told him I had every confidence that he would 
execute my order faithfully, and escort them safely 
through.” 

“Had you any personal spite or particular cause of 
malice against one or more of the massacred officers ? ” 

“ None whatever.” 

This answer, although utterly false as regarded Salcedo, 
Bernardo delivered without a show of hesitation, and even 
with an air of the utmost candor. The simple truth is, he 
had expected the query and was ready for it. 

The most unscrupulous liar, before delivering his lie, 
will cast about him for some sort of salve, however sorry a 
one, for his poor, miserable wreck of a conscience. So, 
Bernardo, in meeting this query, argued inwardly, that his 
spite was entertained against the officers only while they were 
yet wi^nassacred, and that as soon as the massacre took 
place all his spite ceased ; ergo, he had no spite against 
any of the massacred officers. So much for a Mexican's 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 373 


conscience, — or, rather, the remnant of that noble, sensi- 
tive conscience with which his Maker has endowed him in 
common with the rest of mankind, but which has been frit- 
tered away in political and social intrigue, until a mere 
shell is left, — and that often of the hardest kind. 

“ W e would like to know. General, the source of your 
information to the effect that a sail, destined for New Or- 
leans, is now lying in Matagorda Bay ? ” was the next in- 
terrogatory, and the one on which the Americans — to 
judge from the intentness with which they awaited the 
answer — evidently expected the whole matter to turn. 

Bernardo showed just enough confusion to be perceptible, 
and did not at once reply. 

“We ask this,” resumed Kemper, on perceiving his hesi- 
tation, “because we have since heard that no vessel is there 
at present, or is likely to be there within any reasonable 
time.” 

These additional words by no means relieved the embar- 
rassment of the accused. Nor is it at all likely his inter- 
rogator designed that they should do so. The blood 
mounted from his guilty heart to his cheek, as Abel’s rose 
out of the ground and told who was the murderer then. 
He winced unmistakably, and his effort to answer was de- 
layed for some time. During this painful pause, all eyes 
remained fixed upon him ; and though sadly at a loss what 
to say — yet knowing full well that something must be 
said, and that speedily, or his ruin was at hand — he man- 
aged at last to get off a miserable abortion. 

“ Well really — gentlemen, I — I have forgotten.” 

There was perhaps not a man present who did not think 
Bernardo’s complicity pretty well established by the latter 
part of this examination. At any rate, a court-martial was 
the consequence, — which resulted Ir implicating him in 
the murder. He was accordingly — on the ground of 
32 


374 MORE THAN SHE COULD^ BEAR. 

treachery and barbarity — deprived at once of all military 
command, nominal and real, as well as deposed from the 
Provisional Presidency, to which he had just been chosen. 

So here Bernardo Gutierrez disappears from our story, to 
reappear briefly but once or twice again. He was doubt- 
less a man of talent, and was possessed of fascinating man- 
ners. He had done as much, perhaps, as any one else to 
initiate this invasion, — though, since it crossed the Sabine, 
he had — most probably from lack of personal courage — 
done little or nothing to advance it, — and now he came 
near working its ruin ; for Kemper, Boss, and many other 
officers, as well as some of the men, disgusted by such per- 
fidious atrocities, which they feared — and certainly not 
without reason, now that full five hundred Mexicans of 
San Antonio and vicinity had joined the little army — 
might, at almost any time, be repeated, abandoned the 
patriot cause, and returned to the United States. 


CHAPTER XLI. 

This, 

. . . . So horrible, so bloody, must 

Lead on to some foul issue. Winter’s Tale. 

The enemies’ drum is heard . — Timon of Athens. 

A t the same time that Bernardo had been placed at the 
head of the local administration, a council of thirteen 
— only two of whom were Americans — had been ap- 
pointed to advise with and assist him in the discharge of 
his duties. As soon as he was deposed, however, — there 
being no one who was capable of filling his place, and who 
would at the same time have been acceptable to the Mexi- 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 375 

cans, — the entire civil machinery went to pieces. It is 
not at all improbable that the Americans — well knowing 
that one of their own number would not, without much mur- 
muring, be tolerated at the head of affairs by the ignorant 
and jealous Mexican population, and fearing to risk in that 
exalted position another of Bernardo’s race — concluded 
they would try for a while, in preference, the experiment 
of having no civil government at all. Be the reason what 
it may, there certainly was, for a time, no civil government 
in San Antonio. 

The consequence of this want of wholesome restraint 
was, that, on a small scale, the invaders came near finding 
their Capua in San Antonio. For the two or three suc- 
ceeding months, — during which there was not even a 
rumor, false or other, of an enemy’s approach, — the 
Americans revelled in all the excesses which a plentiful 
supply of wine and comely women well-nigh invariably 
develops in the inflammable soldier, during those heyday 
periods when he is fain to forget the hardships and dangers 
through which he has already passed, ho less than to blind 
himself against such as are yet to come. 

Whilst they were still rioting in almost every kind of 
dissipation, Elisondo — the same who had so basely be- 
trayed Hidalgo into the hands of the royalists — suddenly 
made his appearance before the badly picketed town with 
three thousand of the viceroy’s regular force. He could 
easily have entered the place at once; but not knowing how 
thoroughly surprised the garrison were, nor how ill-pre- 
pared for defence at that particular juncture, instead of 
seizing this opportune moment, he quietly encamped not 
quite a mile from town. 

There being, on the side of the patriots, no one at the 
head of affairs to direct their movements, great confusion 
for a time prevailed. The local influence proved too strong 


376 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


to justify the Americans in setting up one of their own num- 
ber in place of the discarded Bernardo ; for, despite his 
broken faith — or, possibly, by reason of it — he was still a 
favorite with the Mexicans. Had there been in the be- 
leaguered town any one else of that mongrel race, who could 
have commanded the confidence of his countrymen, it is 
quite safe to believe that Bernardo would have been ig- 
nored — and that, without scruple — by their allies. There 
was, however, no other Mexican to be for a moment 
thought of, except Manchaca, who, although possessing, 
with all his rudeness, a vast deal of vigor, both mental and 
bodily, and having no little influence with his people, was 
nevertheless unfit for leadership. 

Thus did Bernardo come to be reinstated — though only 
nominally, and for this special emergency. Perry, an able 
and energetic officer, was the real commander — both Kem- 
per and Ross, who out-ranked him, having, as already 
stated, quit the service in disgust of Bernardo’s conduct. 

Meanwhile Elisondo had the effi'ontery to propose to the 
Americans, through a messenger, that, if they would sur- 
render into his hands Bernardo and the other Mexicans 
implicated in the murder of the Spanish officers, they would 
be allowed to retire unmolested from Texas. To this they 
replied to the effect, that not only did they not desire his 
Excellency’s gracious permission “to retire unmolested 
from Texas,” but that they, in their turn, had no inten- 
tion of allowing him any such privilege. 

A word to the wise is said to be sufficient ; and, if the 
saying be true, Elisondo must, indeed, have been a fool, 
that these plain words did not suffice to put him more on 
his guard than he was presently found to be. His im- 
pudent proposition, and the contemptuous answer thereto, 
were proclaimed in the town, and had, at once, a most 
happy efiect in rallying the people. A general muster was 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 377 


called, and all Americans and Mexicans capable of bearing 
arms prepared for battle. 

The Americans, with the hope of effecting a complete 
surprise, — a matter of vast moment to them, when the dis- 
parity of numbers, as well as the almost entire want of disci- 
pline and experience on the part of their Mexican allies, is 
considered, — put double sentries on duty, — no one was 
allowed to pass and repass, and all their cannon were 
spiked except four pieces. 

The Spaniards had thrown up two bastions, with a cur- 
tain of about four hundred yards between. This work 
covered a gentle ridge running hard by the bank of the 
Alazan, a small branch of the San Antonio river, and be- 
hind which they were encamped. 

About ten o’clock at night, the Americans marched out 
by file, in deep silence, until they had reached a point where 
they could hear the enemy’s guard. Here they sat down, 
with their arms beside them, through the remainder of the 
night. Orders were given that a charge should be made, 
on a certain signal. This signal was to be communicated 
noiselessly by a check from the right of each company : 
not a word was to be spoken. About daybreak, when the 
Spaniards were heard at their matins, the concerted signal 
was set in motion on the extreme left of the little army, 
and ran through its ranks like an electric shock. 

The patriots, numbering about seven hundred and fifty, 
only one third of whom were Americans, moved forward 
like veterans. The enemy, as hoped, were completely sur- 
prised. The assailants, after capturing their pickets, 
mounted the works, hauled down the Spanish flag, hoisted 
their own tri-color — all, before those in camp even so 
iiluch as suspected what was going on. 

The Spaniards, however, notwithstanding the disadvan- 
tage which the surprise caused them, as soon as they could 
32 * 


378 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

bring themselves to comprehend fully the state of things, 
rushed to the menaced point and fought bravely. After a 
hard struggle they succeeded in driving the assailants from 
the works. But the Americans, by a resolute charge, re- 
captured them — using only the bayonet — and carrying 
everything before them, penetrated into the camp. The 
slaughter was terrible. The battle had lasted several hours, 
when the Spaniards fled, leaving a thousand killed 
and wounded, — very few being captured. There fell 
into the hands of the patriots all the enemy’s artillery, 
a large quantity of ammunition and military stores, two 
standards, and some silver. The patriots themselves lost 
nearly fifty killed outright, and about one hundred and 
fifty wounded, one third of them mortally. This was, 
yet, the hardest-fought battle of the campaign. 

The battle, however, which was to decide, for many 
years, the fate of Texas, was yet to come. And it came 
much sooner than the achievers of the recent glorious vic- 
tory had any reason to expect. 

Bernardo was now a second time dismissed from the 
service. It is difficult to pronounce, at this late day, with 
the meagre evidence before us, whether this man was an 
ardent and self-sacrificing patriot, — lacking, however, the 
very essential endowments of courage and humanity, — or 
whether he was only a truckling time-server. It is certain 
he endured — though with what patience, we cannot now 
learn — a vast deal of such treatment from the Americans 
as could have been borne only by the possession of one or 
the other of the two antipodal qualities above named. 
Nor were the Americans to be blamed for so treating him. 
From the moment he violated his solemn pledge in the 
matter of the murdered Spanish officers, they felt an utt^r 
want of confidence in him, — and that they did, is surely 
not to be wondered at. However sincere they may have 


MOKE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 379 


thought his hatred of the royal cause, and of the Gachu- 
pins, who so fiercely upheld it; however faithful they may 
have supposed him to be to the principles of republicanism, 
— in so far, at least, as consisted with his own peculiar 
notions of fidelity to those principles, — whatever they may 
hav^e thought of this man, on these and other points, they 
never, after that cold-blooded butchery, felt safe in trusting 
him, — and nothing but the relentless necessity, which ac- 
tually arose, could have induced them to do so. 

To review his course briefly, — now that we have given 
all the facts, and are about to dismiss him from our notice 
as an officer, — in the first place, he may be considered the 
nucleus around which the invading forces gathered on the 
Sabine. During the nine succeeding months of an active 
campaign, he did literally nothing for its advancement. 
Although accompanying the army throughout, he took no 
part in the operations, except in the passive way of allow- 
ing himself to be used as a mere lay-figure, not to be pro- 
duced save in certain emergencies. Only one emergency 
requiring his aid arose, — on the occasion, namely, of 
Magee’s proposed surrender at La Bahia, when, as we have 
seen, he was brought forth, — not, indeed, for the purpose 
of deciding the question at issue, for the army had already 
done that with unanimity, but with the view of securing, for 
the sake of its effect on the Mexican element in Texas, his 
formal sanction to their already announced decision. 
With this single exception, nothing whatever is known of 
him, although half a dozen battles were fought during that 
time. Nor is his name so much as mentioned elsewhere 
than as stated above, in any one of the many Texan his- 
tories, narratives, reminiscences, or what not, that we have 
been able to get access to. To be sure, after the brilliant 
victory on the Salado, which secured the surrender of San 
Antonio and its garrison, he took up the sword which 


380 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


Salcedo had stuck in the ground before him: but what of 
him during the battle? during any battle, in fact? Not a 
single word. 

When he at last arrived among his own people, in the 
above-named town, his cold-bloodedness seems to have been 
warmed up a little by the contact, — as though he was fain 
to prove — now that the winter of Texan discontent had 
been made glorious summer by these sons of Columbia — 
that he was not quite so torpid as he had been during his 
hibernation. And like the genuine anaconda that he was, 
on the first favorable opportunity presenting for a meal 
after his protracted abstinence, he gorged himself, as we 
have seen, on fourteen Gachupins at one fell gulp — two 
of them, Cordero and Herrera, being perhaps the very best 
native Spaniards in the land ; for they are universally 
represented to have been accomplished gentlemen, fine 
scholars, brave soldiers, and withal, as possessing a human- 
ity of disposition rare, indeed, in a Spaniard of those days. 

Preparatory to the battle, of the Alazan, just described, 
Bernardo was again brought forth from the mist of shame 
in which he had shrouded himself, and was put promi- 
nently forward, as a puppet, to tickle the inordinate vanity, 
and allay the inordinate jealousy, of his countrymen. 

As late as July the 4th, we find kim, by the records', 
issuing, at San Antonio, a high-flown address, in which he 
says, after recapitulating the unbroken series of triumphs 
achieved by the little army: 

“ For all this, I am indebted to the immortal sons of 
Columbia.^’ 

It is probable that this was his last official act. Soon 
afterwards, accompanied by his family, he found his way 
to the Neutral Ground. Fifteen years later, he was living 
somewhere in Mexico, in unmolested obscurity, the indepen- 
dence of that country having then been achieved. Some 


MOTwE THAN SHE COULD BEAK. 381 

time during this long interval, he published an elaborate 
pamphlet, having for its object the exculpation of himself 
in the matter of the Salcedo tragedy. From this single 
fact, we may venture to hope that remorse for that egre- 
gious piece of diabolism goaded him throughout the 
remainder of his life. 


CHAPTER XLII. 

To-morrow, 

We must, with all our main of power, stand fast. 

Troilus and Gres&ida. 

It is a day turn’d strangely. — Cymheline. 

S CuiRCELY had the Americans discharged Bernardo, 
when, resolved to do away with the disagreeable neces- 
sity for his further use, they dispatched an agent to solicit 
the services of a man on whom they had already secretly 
fixed as his successor. 

This man, Don Jose Alvarez Toledo, belonged to a dis- 
tinguished Spanish family, and was born in Cuba. At one 
time he resided in Mexico, where he had been a member 
of the Spanish Cortes, then in existence there. Banished 
thence for his republican sympathies, he had, for some 
time past, been living in Louisiana, where he was engaged in 
forwarding to the patriot army what few recruits he could 
gather. During the period last referred to he had been 
kept advised, from time to time, of what was going on in 
Texas. On receiving the news of his appointment, he 
forthwith set out for San Antonio, and reached that point 
soon after Bernardo’s departure for the Neutral Ground. 
The citizens, as well as the troops, in consideration of his 


382 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

distinction as an eminent republican Spaniard, sallied forth 
to meet him and escort him in. He was received with 
an unusual amount of display, and was at once chosen 
Commander-in-Chief of the “ Republican Army of the 
North.” 

Toledo forthwith organized a junta for civil govern- 
ment, and set himself assiduously about the re-establish- 
ment of law arid order. Alcaldes and their subordinate 
officials were appointed, and, for a brief season, law, other 
than military, was supreme in San Antonio. 

Unfortunately, however, for the patriot cause, the new com- 
mander, despite his fair fame and his soldierly qualities, was 
regarded with dislike and jealousy by the Mexicans, who 
openly murmured that a Gachupiii — that is, a native of 
Spain — was to go vern them, although he proposed to govern 
them in accordance with those very principles of liberty 
which they themselves were so zealously maintaining. It 
would seem that, either from gross stupidity or blind preju- 
dice, they habitually failed to recognize any difference be- 
tween a Spaniard who was a true friend and a Spaniard who 
was a mortal enemy. Accordingly, Manchaca — now that 
Bernardo had left the country — found the majority of his 
fellow - citizens disposed to place themselves under his 
auspices. The alienation of so large a portion of the native 
jDopulation boded no good to the cause of independejice. 

It was not long after Toledo had inaugurated his gov- 
ernment, and set the political machinery fairly to work, 
that the American scouts rode into town with the startling 
announcement that a large, Spanish army was approaching. 

The republicans promptly marched forth to meet the 
minions of despotism. It was now nearly two months since 
the battle of the Alazan. The scattered remnants of Eli- 
sondo’s army had made their way, as fast as utter conster- 
nation could impel them, to the interior of Mexico, where 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 383 


they of course lost no time in circulating tidings of the dis- 
aster that had befallen the royal arms. 

General Arredondo commanded the north-eastern prov- 
inces of Mexico at this time. He was a soldier of unques- 
tioned-ability, as well as unquestionable ferocity — one of 
the generals who had borne a conspicuous part in the de- 
feat of Hidalgo, and a no less conspicuous part in the 
subsequent atrocious massacres. He was even charged with 
having, at Altimea and Saltillo, put to death women and 
children ; and, from subsequent events, the truth of which 
does not rest on hearsay, it is probable the charges were 
well founded. 

Joining his forces with such of Elisondo’s as he could 
get in hand, he set out for Texas, in company with that 
badly-beaten and much-chagrined leader, at the head of 
four thousand men. Halting at a lake, about a mile west 
of the Medina river and fifteen miles from San Antonio, he 
set about fortifying his position. He threw up a breast- 
work in the road, in the form of the letter <^, with the 
open end towards San Antonio. This work he masked 
from view by setting up bushes like a natural growth of 
chaparral. 

On receiving information of the approach of the repub- 
licans, one-half of his command, with four pieces of artil- 
lery, was thrown forward as a decoy. The Americans 
were commanded by Kemper, who — perhaps under the 
inspiration of Toledo’s leadership — had recently returned 
from the United States, whither, as before stated, Ber- 
nardo’s perfidious conduct had driven him, disgusted and 
indignant. The Mexicans were commanded by Man- 
chaca — the whole force being directed by Toledo, who 
differed from his predecessor in that he was no mere 
puppet. 

Manchaca’s insubordination, and his evident envy of the 


S84 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

commander-in-chief, probably induced the latter to commit 
the fatal blunder of placing the Mexicans in one body in 
the centre, thus separating the Americans, who formed the 
wings. The principal officers of the Texan army differed 
about the propriety of crossing the Medina. Toledo pro- 
posed to feign a retreat, and thus lure the enemy over to the 
east bank. Kemper, with his characteristic, fiery valor, 
opposed it> and at last carried his point. This noble 
American had chafed sorely during his separation, for 
principle’s sake, from his struggling comrades; and now that 
he had joined them once more, he was eager — perhaps too 
eager — to atone for his absence by closing at once with the 
foe. Accordingly, the Texans, crossing the river, pressed 
forward, the enemy yielding ground, though slowly and in 
good order. After retreating about a mile, a vigorous 
onset broke them, and they fled, leaving their cannon 
behind. 

Toledo, fearing an ambuscade, besides thinking the 
ardor of the men was carrying them too far from water, 
ordered them to fall back upon the river. From this order 
arose at once discord, and consequently confusion. Kem- 
per and Manchaca galloped furiously along the lines, coun- 
termanding the orders of the commander-in-chief, and 
swearing there should be no retreat. 

The Americans, of course, preferred obeying Kemper ; 
and as Toledo was disliked by the Mexicans, while, on the 
other hand, Manchaca was very popular with them, they 
pushed on in total disregard of the former’s order to fall 
back. During this period of disorder-in the Texan ranks, 
the Spaniards had rallied. The fighting now recommenced, 
and the enemy, closely pressed, retired a second time, though 
still fighting and without confusion, to their intrenchments. 
There the patriots were suddenly exposed to a most de- 
structive fire of cannon and musketry from Arredondo’s 


MORE THAN SHE COUED BEAR. 3S5 

whole force, whose great superiority in numbers now be- 
came evident. The Mexicans being terror-stricken by the 
first terrible volley, almost the whole of them turned and 
fled, — appearing no more on the field. 

It was at this precise juncture that Toledo’s blunder in 
arranging his order of battle was made fearfully obvious ; 
for this untimely flight of the entire Mexican force would, 
most probably, not have been fatal had the Americans 
been kept in one body. But forming, as they did, the right 
and left wings, they were subjected to the incalculable dis- 
advantage of being widely separated at that very crisis when 
concentrated action alone could be depended on to retrieve 
the day. They, however, did not flinch from the perils 
before them, but, rushing upon the breastworks, fought 
with a desperation proportioned to their fearful environ- 
ments. 

At this point in the struggle, the Spanish cavalry was 
broken, and Arredondo made preparations to retire. 
When about commencing his retreat, however. Colonel 
Musquiez, a traitor from the Mexican ranks, rode over to 
the royalists, with the news — which was not quite true, 
though, of course, sufficiently so for such a villain, when 
his infamous purposes were to be subserved thereby — that 
the Americans were beaten : moreover, that they were 
fainting, from want of water, and that it would be impossi- 
ble for them to resist one more determined onset. There- 
upon Arredondo rallied his cavalry, and with these and 
some of his freshest companies of infantry, rushed furiously 
on the Americans. Being by this time terribly thinned, 
their allies having long since fled, their ammunition 
being nearly spent, worn down by almost superhuman 
efforts, and still further enfeebled by a scorching sun and 
a lack of water, they — being nothing more than mortals, 
after all their display of heroism — began to give way. A 
33 


386 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


merciless butchery now commenced, and most of the few 
brave fellows who escaped from the field were slain in their 
long flight back to the Neutral Ground. 

The Mexicans, who fled early, suffered comparatively 
little. The handful of Coshatta Indians, however, stood 
by the Americans to the last, and shared their heroic fate. 

The Spanish cavalry started immediately in pursuit, 
and scrupled not a moment to butcher all who were so 
unfortunate as to be overtaken. At Spanish Bluff, on the 
Trinity, they captured seventy or eighty of the fugitives, 
whom they marched to an island of timber in the vicinity, 
where, with a touch of diabolism from which hell itself — 
if indeed even hell would not recoil from it — might take 
an instructive lesson in torture, they caused the victims to 
stand hard by and witness the horrible preparations which 
for several hours were going forward for their execution. 
They first dug a long, deep trench, which they bridged 
with a log. They then tied the limbs of the doomed, set 
them, ten at a time, on the log, and shot them, — 
making the little woods ring with their fiendish merriment 
as each batch of dead and dying dropped, wdth a heavy 
thud, into the great yawning grave below, where they 
writhed, and groaned, and struggled a-top of the writhing, 
groaning, struggling mass which had just preceded them. 

Among the few Americans who reached Natchitoches 
were Kemper, Perry, and Taylor, — the last-named badly 
wounded. 

The victorious party pursued wuth vengeance every 
friend of republicanism in Texas. The town of Trinidad, 
at Spanish Bluff, was utterly wasted. Such of its inhabi- 
tants as did not escape were driven to a hill in the vicin- 
ity, called Loma del Toro, or Bull’s Hill, and massacred 
in cold blood. 

Tw^o days after the battle of the Medina, General Arre- 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 387' 

doiido with his wagons full of his own wounded and dying, 
made his triumphal march into San Antonio. Here he 
forthwith seized and imprisoned seven hundred of the 
peaceable citizens. Three hundred of these he confined in 
one house, and on the following morning nineteen of them 
were found to have died during the night from suffocation. 
From day to day, the remainder were led forth and shot 
without even the pretence of a trial. This inhuman tyrant 
had also a prison for women. Here he kept in close con- 
finement five hundred of the wives, daughters, and other 
female relatives of the patriots. On these the daily task 
was imposed of grinding between stones, with the hand, 
twenty-four bushels of Indian corn, and converting the 
same into Mexican cakes, called tortillas, for Arredondo’s 
army. 

By the time this monster had thus, and otherwise, 
glutted his fiendish appetite for blood and torture, his pre- 
cious lieutenant, Elisoiido, who had pursued the fugitives 
to the Trinity, returned to San Antonio, driving before 
him, on foot, the widows and orphans of those he had there 
slain. 

Of the few Americans who survived, such as had not 
already seen enough bloodshed, finding their own country 
now deeply involved in a fierce struggle with Great Britain, 
volunteered their services to aid in repelling the invader 
from their own homes. This final withdrawal of their 
brave allies, by whom so many brilliant successes had been 
achieved, and with the lesson of the late terrible retribution 
before them, it may well be believed that the sparsely scat- 
tered citizens of Texas were slow to stir up again the fires 
of revolutionary strife. For five consecutive years an 
awful hush, like that we feel in the presence of the dead, 
or of the ghosts of the dead, rested on that fair province— 
so blessed by heaven — so cursed by tyrants. 


383 MOBE TtlAN SHE COULD BEAK. 


CHAPTER XLIIL 

You are a man — 

You lack a man’s heart. — As You Like It. 

If you live to see this come to pass, say, Pompey told you so. 

Measure foi' Measure. 

W E will now turn to our fair friends at the lake. A 
whole year has gone by since they were last named 
in this story — a year of wearing grief and remorse to both. 
During the first portion of that period, they had roamed 
nervously about by day, alone, much preferring solitude to 
each other’s society, each feeding on her own sad thoughts, 
as though these were the sole sustenance of her mental life. 
At night, they slept but brokenly, and in the morning 
awoke at an early hour, unrefreshed and haggard. They 
both, however, were blessed with most excellent constitu- 
tions ; and, as is the usual result under such physical ad- 
vantages, the present state of depression, instead of wearing 
these lone mourners out, began itself to die away. This 
grew at length into a state of patient endurance, during 
which, although they could tolerate for horn’s, v/ithout any 
annoyance, each other’s company, they sat in silent medi- 
tation, rarely conversing, for they had ps yet few thoughts 
in common — none indeed that would have admitted of 
agreeable discussion. Understanding each other as they 
did, they could not but know that any attempt at free 
communion would have been but mockery. 

This stage of their sorrow began, in its turn, to weai 
away, and they gradually lapsed into their previous boon 
relations with each other. They began to converse, not 
from necessity, as they had all along done at times, but 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 389 


purely for the pleasure which conversation afforded them. 
They began to renew their rambles together through the 
woods. They began to resort again to their favorite diver- 
sion of rowing upon the lake. In short, they began to fall 
into all their olden habits. With such healthful exercise 
and cheerful intercourse came, as a natural consequence, 
better appetite, refreshing sleep, quiet nerves. In this im- 
proved condition, they were enabled to endure, with com- 
parative comfort, a year’s dreadful suspense, which, but for 
the boon of unusual physical vigor, might have forced them 
to succumb long before. 

When the storm of a terrible grief first breaks upon us, 
we shrink, quail, tremble before it; but if it does not 
deprive us of life outright, we come, by degrees, to accom- 
modate ourselves to the new atmosphere in which we 
believe we are destined to live for the remainder of our 
days. We still see each flash and hear each bolt, and if 
these seem not so keen nor so loud as once, it is only be- 
cause we do not look and listen for them so eagerly as we 
did. In fact, since we mark, only through the reflex aid 
of memory, this storm which has long ago passed, but has 
left its melancholy traces behind, we do not see and hear 
any more the thing itself. We once looked aloft and 
saw the black cloud in substance lowering above us : we 
now look down and see only the black shadow about our 
path. The vivid lightnings once burned into our eyeballs, 
— now we see but a reflected glare; while, instead of the 
startling crash, it is only the distant echo of the reverber- 
ating thunder that we hear. 

Thus we become, in some sort, used to the tempest that 
overhangs our life. To be sure, we are never without a 
consciousness that it is there — above us — around us — 
and, indeed, within us — but it is only a vague conscious- 
ness — just as, at other times, \\efeel, rather than see, that 
38 * 


390 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

some revolting object from which we would but cannot 
escape, is lurking near. 

From the first, Isabella had thought of writing fully and 
freely to her lover in explanation of her conduct, should 
an opportunity present to send a letter. But she was per- 
fectly aware that Miguel, the only person whose services 
she could hope to command, was too timid to venture 
.while there was the least shadow of danger to himself. 
This old man had not only a holy horror of the ferocity of 
the Gachupins, but a most exalted opinion of their col- 
lected strength. Although a republican at heart, he had 
no confidence whatever that the cause which he passively 
favored would prevail. From the moment the little army 
crossed the Sabine, he began his lugubrious predictions — 
sometimes to the Senorita when she would endure them, 
but chiefly to his wife, in whom, holding, as she did, 
opinions in common with his own on this point, he found a 
patient, nay, an eager listener — that they would soon 
come back, such of them at least as survived, a beaten and 
bleeding fragment. 

Entertaining these morbid views, he turned a deaf ear to 
all Isabella’s entreaties to be the bearer of her letter to the 
Texan camp. Not only did she lavish on him all her per- 
suasive powers, but she threatened to discharge him unless 
he would do her bidding in this matter. This, of course, 
did not move him, since he well knew that, for the present 
at least, he was indispensable to her, and in no danger of 
being so summarily disposed of. She then offered to 
reward him, when the war was over, with a certain amount 
of gold, with no other effect, avaricious though he was by 
nature, than to make him stretch his eyes in utter astonish- 
ment at the liberality of the offer, which was far beyond 
anything he had before heard of in the matter of letter- 
carrying, and set hini to vainly wondering what could be 


MORE THAN SHE COULO BEAR. 3^1 

the therae of an epistle so momentous as to justify such a 
lavish expenditure. 

The truth is, after the army left the Trinity, it would 
have been no easy task for a much bolder courier than 
Miguel would have proved, to reach them. For, thence 
they marched directly, and at no laggard pace, for La Bahia, 
where they were immediately shut in by Salcedo’s army, and 
henceforth to the end of the siege, a period of about four 
months, maintained by valor alone such intercourse with 
the surrounding country as was dictated by dire necessity — 
their only alternative being, as herein before explained, 
starvation. Even for weeks after San Antonio had fiillen 
into the hands of the patriots, no reliable news to that effect 
reached Natchitoches. What one person would report on 
coming in, another would contradict before the week had 
passed. In fact, the royalists had, in the very beginning, 
so arranged matters that rumors adverse to the invading 
force should find their way to Louisiana at brief inter- 
vals, — thus discouraging such American recruits as had 
already gone thus far, from pushing on any further west- 
ward to assist their countrymen. At one time the patriots 
had been utterly routed, and were flying in every direc- 
tion, At another, they had been captured and sent to 
Mexico, to be thrown into dungeons, or to drudge in the 
dreadful mines. At another, they had surrendered and 
had been sent to the United States. At still another, they 
had been put to the sword — not one being left to tell the 
tale. 

The consequence was, no one could possibly know the 
exact state of things. The most hopeful sometimes doubted 
whether the republicans had held their own, and even if 
they had, thus far, whether discomfiture and disaster 
might not soon come upon them. It is little to be won- 
dered, therefore, that Isabella could not, by any means she 


392 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

could use, prevail on a chicken-hearted old Mexican to 
undertake her mission. 

Indeed, Miguel — as well from his natural bent, as from 
the apprehension that the Senorita, on a favorable turn in 
the affairs of the republicans, would again urge him to the 
mission he had so often declined — took precious good 
care to glean all these ugly rumors whenever he was dis- 
patched to town for news, — which, since the campaign 
fairly opened, was nearly every day. Moreover, he col- 
ored, and enlarged, and embellished them to suit himself, 
and that so artfully, that, with all the acumen she dis- 
played in examining, re-examining, and cross-examining 
him on his return, she could seldom get out of him what he 
had really heard, much less could she get the naked and 
undistorted facts themselves as they had been brought forth 
during the throes of a revolution five hundred miles away. 

Soon after the Americans reached San Antonio, how- 
ever, the prospects for learning the true state of things 
began to brighten, until, at length, when Elisondo was so 
disastrously driven out of Texas, there were no longer any 
Gachupin newsfactors left to range betwixt San Antonio 
and Louisiana. Henceforth, for several weeks, there was 
only one side to all the rumors, wild and exaggerated 
though they often were. According to these, everything 
was going on smoothly for the patriots. It was now that 
Isabella resolved to make one more effort to persuade, beg, 
inveigle, or bribe, Miguel into the secret service which she 
had in view. 

“Miguel, what news?” she said to him, one day, when 
he returned from Natchitoches. She spoke in Spanish, as, 
indeed, she always did in addressing him, — for he could 
speak but little else, and not much of that, really, but a 
lingo, which, by a sort of “ loyal ” courtesy, passes for it in 
Mexico, just as with us, in certain cases, greenbacks pass 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 393 

for gold, though it is exceedingly difficult for anybody but 
a bondholder to see the justice of the arrangement. 

“There isn’t much, Senorita,” he replied slowly, and 
looking a trifle downcast. The shade of dejection arose 
not at all from his having no news, but from his hav- 
ing, for once, nothing but good news. This was some- 
thing which, in all his running to town, had never hap- 
pened to him before : he had always been able to gather 
adverse tidings enough to serve as a foundation for a dis- 
couraging story. But to-day, although he had lingered in 
the place much longer than usual, for the express pur- 
pose, — ransacked every corner which promised anything 
of the kind he sought, and pumped, without scruple, every 
citizen who understood Spanish, he found not a single 
inauspicious item. 

But, to give the devil his due, this old fellow, although 
he hesitated not, when it best suited his purpose, to distort 
most egregiously what he heard, would never tell a down- 
right lie, or invent a rumor out and out. Hence his dogged 
aversion to opening his budget on the present occasion: he 
would not lie, and he had absolutely nothing to build on. 

“What, no news at all?” exclaimed the Senorita. 
“ Why, that, in itself, is news — and good news. When 
you can come home from town and bring nothing bad, but 
a bad countenance, it ’s a pretty sure sign there ’s a good 
time coming. Miguel, do put ofi* that miserable expres- 
sion, and tell me what you heard.” 

“ I did n’t hear anything worth telling,” he replied, this 
time mingling a dash of sulkiness with his previous rue- 
ful look-— a mongrel expression on a mongrel counte- 
nance, not very gratifying to one’s jesthetic sense. 

“ Well, tell me what you did hear,” she persisted, “and 
let me judge for myself of its value. Is our native town 
still in the hands of the patriots ? ” 


394 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR, 

“ Yes — but I ’m sure I’ve been telling you that every 
day for a month.” 

“ And, Miguel, it ’s worth telling every day for a month 
longer, — more especially as, every time you have told me 
of it heretofore, you have predicted that they would not be 
Buffered to hold it until the morrow.” 

“Oh, yes — to be sure they still hold San Antonio; 
but—” 

“ But what, now ? ” 

“ Well, they just have n’t got any further : that ’s all.” 

“ Did you ever hear that they expected or wished to get 
any further? ” 

“No — Senorita ; but I thought — ” 

“ You thought what? 

“ Come now — let ’s have it : what do you think ? ” she 
went on, seeing that he was not disposed to reply. “ Tell 
me what you thought, Miguel.” 

The Mexican still said nothing — so she once more 
went on : 

“You thought, I suppose, that three hundred Ameri- 
cans, and probably about twice as many Mexicans, would 
have the madness to undertake to march to the city of 
Mexico.” 

“No — no — I did n’t think that, Senorita,” returned 
Miguel, looking a little abashed. 

“ Well, did you ever hear that they hoped or expected 
to do more than drive the Gachupins out of Texas, and 
keep them out ? ” 

“ No, Senorita.” 

“ Well, have n’t they driven them out ? and do they dare 
return ? ” 

“ No, Senorita, they don’t yet — but — ” 

“Oh, Miguel, no more of your huts ! that is, if this ‘ but ’ 
belongs to the same family with the last one, and I dare 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 395 


say it’s a direct descendant, — most likely a degenerate 
one, too.” 

“ Miguel,” she said, after a pause, “ you know as well as 
I do that the Gachupins will never come back to Texas ; 
and as the way is clear now, I want you to — ” 

“ I ’m sorry I can’t agree with you, Senorita,” interrupted 
Miguel, well knowing what was coming next, and resolved, 
if possible, to stave it off, as he had so often done before : 

I think they will come back.” 

“ Miguel,” said she, stepping close to his side and whis- 
pering in his ear, as though afraid the murmuring leaves 
above might repeat what she had to say, if spoken aloud. 
“ If you will take a letter to San Antonio, and bring me 
a written answer, your reward for the service shall not be 
put off until the war is over, as I before proposed, — nor 
shall it be the same paltry sum.” 

“ Pay me at once, Senorita, did you say ? and — how 
much, Senorita ? ” he asked, in a low tone, evidently sur- 
prised no little; for he had considered her previous offer ex- 
ceedingly liberal, — and if that was, in comparison but a 
“paltry” one, sure enough, how much, in the holy virgin’s 
name, he asked himself, could this other one be? 

The inquiries which he had just made of the Senorita were, 
in themselves, a sign that there was some hope at least of 
the old man’s fears being overcome, — for never before this 
moment could Isabella interest him enough to lead him even 
to inquire how soon, or how much, he was to be paid in case 
of success, though she had more than once thrust that infor- 
mation on him, nolens volens, the proffered amount being 
increased each time. The danger of the undertaking 
had at last, then, even in his distorted judgment, so dimin- 
ished, that avarice, of which he had no small share, was 
beginning to struggle in his breast for the mastery over 
fear, and cool calculation had already returned to his head 


S96 TilA^f SliE COULt) BEAR. 

and gone to casting up figures. It v;as surely a cheering 
sign. And the lady resolved, now that this old iron was 
hot at last, to strike down upon it instanter her one great 
blow which she had reserved as the final resort ; — that 
failing to shape the stubborn metal to her will, all further 
effort in that direction to cease henceforth and forever as 
utterly futile. The prize sought was worth the venture : to 
succeed, would probably restore the happiness she had so 
strangely thrown away ; to fail, would certainly perpetu- 
ate her present misery. 

“Yes, Miguel,” she replied; “I will pay you at once, 
and it shall be a thousand dollars in gold. 

“Well may you look surprised, old man,” she went on, 
as he stared at her with a startled gaze, which arose, as she 
well knew, partly from the sudden idea, that he could 
scarcely grasp, of his possessing so much treasure, and 
partly from wondering how she expected to get such a sum 
in a place like this. “You didn’t dream of my having so 
much? Well, I brought it from San Antonio, belted 
around me. Oh, you need not doubt it — it is here. It is 
hidden away — where, no one knows but myself; but if 
you will do me this service, it shall be brought forth, and 
all be yours — every dollar of it; and with it, you and 
Stefanita can be comfortable for the rest of your lives.” 

Isabella, in saying this, not only knew that, before 
setting out, he would have to run the gauntlet of Stefa- 
nita’s objections and fears, — as in fact he had to do in 
well-nigh everything he undertook, — but that the old 
woman herself had a kindred touch of avarice which might 
be thus wrought upon to advantage. 

“It makes me stretch my eyes, Senorita, to think of 
having so much gold,” said the old man; “but, then, 
when I think of how much you will have when you get 
back to San Antonio, it don’t seem such a great deal after 
all.” 


MORE THAN SHE GOULD BEAR. 3D7 

** Why, Miguel, you surely don’t mean to hint that I ’ra 
not offering you enough ? ” 

“Oh, no — no — Senorita; it’s not for such as me to 
hint that, anyhow. It is enough, and more than enough, 
if I can only do what you want done ; and, God knows, 
I ’ll try my best, if my old woman will only let me.” 

Despite this positive disavowal, however, it is quite prob- 
able that Miguel did — and it is perhaps an irresistible im- 
pulse with avarice to do so — just for the moment hope he 
might be able to extort a little more from the lady, and 
that what he said was really intended as a hint to effect 
such a purpose. But scarcely had the base idea crossed 
his mind, when the thought of thus treating one who had 
always been so kind to him, made his cheek tingle with 
shame. Hence his prompt disclaimer. 

Stefanita’s decision proving favorable to the enterprise, 
Isabella wrote her letter, and in a few .hours — after sundry 
very fussy movements in packing and preparing, on the 
part of the old couple — Miguel set out with it for San 
Antonio. 

34 


398 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


CHAPTER XLIV. 


There is no lady living 


So meet for this errand. 


Winier’s Tale. 


I beseech you, 


If you know aught which does behoove my knowledge 
Whereof to be inform’d, imprison it not 


In ignorant concealment. 


Winter^s Tale. 


He tells her something 


That makes her blood look out. 


Winter^ s Tale. 


FTER Miguel left the lake, Isabella and her com- 



panion did not, of course, hear the news so often as 
they had heretofore done with his assistance. A day or 
two after his departure, however, they began to feel the 
want even of such wild and unsatisfactory rumors as they 
had every reason to suppose still made their way daily into 
town ; and before a week had passed thus, their longing to 
hear something had increased to that degree, that Filly 
declared she would endure such a state of suspense no 
longer, but would ride into Natchitoches herself, and 
gather whatever tidings she could. 

“ Things may be going on very important to us,” she 
said, “ and we, here, not knowing a word about it.” 

“ Yes,” replied Isabella, “a good many of our little army 
have been killed : that much we know, but as yet. few of 
the names of the unfortunate ones have reached us. Some 
of our dearest friends may be among them — my dearest 
friends at least: it’s only the singular number with you, if 
you have no very dear friend there except your father.” 

The Senorita may have expected to learn, by this re- 
mark, whether or not Filly really had a lover with the 
army, as she had long suspected. If so, she failed of her 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


399 


object, for the girl chose to take no notice of the semi- 
query. 

“ Go, Filly, by all means,” she added, after a moment’s 
pause, “and try to hear something definite.” 

The girl was not long about starting. On reaching the 
town, she went first to the house of her old friend, Mrs. 
Davies, not only to make inquiries as to how and where 
she might best possess herself of such rumors as were afioat, 
but also because she really wished to see the old lady, whom 
she had not seen for nearly a year, and whose former kind- 
ness she still remembered with gratitude. 

She met with a very warm reception ; and after she had 
answered all the anxious questions propounded with regard 
to herself, she began to unfold the object of her visit to the 
town. 

“Mrs. Davies,” said she, “the Senorita has a good many 
friends living in San Antonio, and some in the Texan 
army, and I ’ve come in to-day to try and find out some- 
thing about them. Where ought I to go, that I may hear ? ” 

“ Why, honey, to General Bernardo, of course.” 

“You don’t say General Bernardo is in town?” said the 
girl, in great astonishment. 

“Yes — he got in last night, with his family, direct from 
San Antonio.” 

“How did he come to leave the array, Mrs. Davies?” 

“I don’t exactly know, — but I suppose, as the fighting’s 
pretty much over — for a while, anyhow — he wants to get 
some more help by the time the Gachupins come again — 
that ’s, if they ever do come. But whatever brought him, 
I ’ll warrant you, he ’s got all the news, child. Everybody 
here that ’s got friends in our army has been around to his 
quarters, to hear about them — or is going. I went last 
night, to ask after Will, — that’s my son. I saw a good 
many there, and a great many have been going to-day.” 


400 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


“ I hope you heard good news of your son ? ” 

“ Oh, yes — he ^s well enough, Will is. And what ’s 
more, the General says he ’s a splendid fighter. He never 
got but one wound, though ; and that was only a scratch 
on his cheek from a musket-ball, at the Alazan. That ’s 
close enough, dear knows ; and I ’m thankful it wan’t 
worse. Just to think, an inch or so to one side would ha" 
killed him ! 

Under ordinary circumstances. Filly would have taken 
a lively interest in hearing about the manw^ho had always 
been kind and courteous to her. But as it was, she really 
heard little of what the old lady said — so little, indeed, 
that, had any one, a moment afterwards, asked her for in- 
formation about Mr. Davies, I doubt whether she could 
have given a single accurate item concerning him, — ex- 
cept, perhaps, that he was alive, — and even of this she 
had only a vague sort of conception, gathered not from the 
words spoken, but from a general impression left on her 
mind, that the old mother’s manner was of quite a cheerful 
cast, and for that reason wholly inconsistent with such 
grief as she must have felt had she lost her only son. 

She had not heard what was said, because she had been 
wholly absorbed in thinking, that, if she could only sum- 
mon up courage to venture into the presence of General 
Bernardo — whom she fancied, for no better reason than 
that he was a general, a being of awful presence — how 
soon she might hear something reliable about the man 
whom she loved a thousand times more than all the world 
besides, despite the cruel treatment she had received at his 
hands. 

“But be it ever so hard to do,” thought she, “I’m deter- 
mined to go through with it.” 

“ Where ’s the General to be found, Mrs. Davies ? ” she 
inquired, starting suddenly up from her seat. 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 401 

Fortunately, she chanced — for it was by the merest 
accident — to do this just as the old lady had got through 
with her flight of what the General had said in praise of 
her dear Will, and had made a decided pause, though no 
doubt intending to begin anew just so soon as she could 
think of something else which the commander-in-chief had 
said about him. Filly’s breaking her off* did not, therefore, 
seem rude ; and, so, by sheer good luck, her tender-hearted 
old friend’s feelings were not hurt, nor was her previous 
good will in the least forfeited. ^ 

Having received such directions as would enable her 
to find the General, she took a fond leave of Mrs. Davies 
and started forth. She found him alone; and so courteous 
and affable was he, — instead of grand and august, as she 
had expected, — that she soon forgot the painful embar- 
rassment caused by the mere anticipation of the interview; 
and, with a little adroit assistance from him, she had no 
difficulty in entering at once into conversation about the 
business which had brought her there, and which she was 
all the more anxious to dispatch speedily, for fear of inter- 
ruption by visitors, who, Mrs. Davies had said, were 
numerous. 

“You have friends in the army?” he said, in an inter- 
rogatory tone, as soon as he saw that she was an entire 
stranger, at the same time rising from his chair and coming 
forward to meet her. These words were spoken almost 
immediately on her entrance, and evidently with the 
express intention of relieving the signs of confusion which 
she had brought into the room on her face. 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“I am always happy,” he went on, “when I can give 
news of the brave Americans who have done so much for 
our freedom. Please be seated, and tell me who your 
friends are.” 

34 * 


402 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

By this time, Filly felt quite at ease; and, after declin- 
ing the seat proffered her, said : 

“ General, do you know anything of Mr. Gatley ? ” 

“Ah, my dear child, if he is a friend of yours, he is 
indeed one to be proud of. To be sure, he is only a 
private, but that only makes his conduct the nobler. A 
private, as you may know, has little chance of prominent 
distinction ; but there is no officer in that whole army of 
better fame than Private John Gatley. And why he is 
not an officer, is a mystery to us all. He has been offered 
a commission after every battle we have had, and still he 
prefers to be in the ranks. But now that the war is over, 
so far as Texas is concerned, I hope he may be induced to 
accept some high civil office, for which his extraordinary 
talents so well fit him.” 

King’s (alids Gatley’s) reasons for so persistently re- 
fusing a captaincy several times offered him, arose from a 
desire to remain, of all things, unknown to Gatewood. 
While, as a comparatively obscure private, he might man- 
age to conceal from him his identity, his acceptance of a 
commission would necessarily lead, at times, to official and 
even personal intercourse with the man whom he once 
highly esteemed, but with whom he now felt he could 
never endure the agony of meeting — and not this only, 
but being recognized and claimed as an old friend, and 
made much of. 

As well as the gentleman now under discussion stood in 
her esteem. Filly had already had a surfeit of the subject. 
Could she have been assured that no one would intrude, 
she could have endured a good deal more of Mr. Gatley 
for the Senorita’s sake, — but having no assurance of this, 
she soon became sorely troubled lest she should at last lose 
her chance to speak of one incalculably nearer and dearer 
to her throbbing heart. In fact, although she had laid 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 403 

away in her memory every word whicli the General had 
said thus far, it was only by dint of great effort and in accord- 
ance with a pre-determined process of mechanical absorp- 
tion and retention, to be carried out at all hazards, and a 
consciousness that to do otherwise would be treating the 
Senorita shabbily. 

“That’s enough of him!” she thought. “I wish he 
would say something about Sefior, without my asking him ; 
but I don’t suppose he will.” 

At this point, the girl heard — or rather imagined she 
heard — some one coming, and resolved to delay the im- 
portant matter no longer. So she spoke at once. 

“Is Captain — Captain Gatewood — well. General?” she 
asked. 

“Yes — the Captain is well now. Is he a friend of 
yours ? said Bernardo, regarding her with a sudden 
change of expression, which, although she did not fully 
understand it, made her shrink back from him into herself. 

“He’s a mean old thing, after all his oily ways!” 
thought the girl, — “ for he don’t like Senor.” 

For policy’s sake, however, she tried to overcome the 
feeling, and returned to the charge. 

“You say he’s well now, General : has he been sick?” 

“No — not sick — but he was very badly wounded at 
the Alazan.” 

The girl grew deadly pale in an instant, to think how 
dreadful it would have been had he been killed: dead, and 
buried in the cold earth, two months ago I Bernardo ob- 
served her agitation, but with great tact, appeared not to 
do so, and went on. 

“ But it ’s no wonder Gatewood was wounded : the only 
wonder is that he has not been killed long ago; for I don’t 
think I ever saw a more reckless man in battle. His men 
are brave enough for all purposes — even including the 


404 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


forlorn hope — should that be required — but he 
ahead even of them.” 

Now, although Bernardo recounted these exploits of 
Gatewood and Gatley as something which he himself had 
seen, the fact is, as long since explained, he was never near 
enough to a battle-field to see even in a general way, what 
was going on, — much less could he observe individual acts 
of bravery. Nevertheless, wdiat he said, he knew" to be 
true, for it w"as the common talk among those W'ho had 
seen. 

“ Oh, Captain Gatew^ood,” he continued, as if to re-as- 
sure the girl, “ is a splendid soldier. I don’t see how we 
could have got along at all without the Captain.” 

This laudation of course set up Bernardo again in the 
impulsive and infatuated girl’s estimation ; for if there is 
any one virtue which a romantic woman delights to hear, 
above all others, harped upon in the man she adores, it is 
bravery, — and there is none which chills her so effectually 
toward him as poltroonery. 

“ He ’s a dear man,” thought she ; and was wondering 
what he could have meant by that strange expression on 
his face, which had so repelled her for a time, when some 
one knocked at the door. On hearing this, as a closing 
interrogatory, she inquired after Isabella’s brother and 
uncle ; and being told all was going well wdth them, after 
thanking the General, she took leave and withdrew. 

The expression which had so puzzled her in Bernardo’s 
face on her asking after Gatewood, was, at first, one of 
searching inquiry. Conviction took the place of this, 
which, in its turn, was succeeded by commiseration. One 
less unsophisticated than Filly in the ways of the w"orld, 
and more skilled in reading the human face, W'ould have 
had little difficulty in rendering this plain physiognom- 
ical tablet into thought. 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 405 


“Can this be a sister of Gatewood’s?” he had asked him- 
self; and the almost immediate answer was, “ No — they 
are in nothing alike ; and as for a wife, or an intended 
wife, such a man could surely have no use for one. Alas I 
she must be his victim.” 

And so she w^as — though not exactly in the sense in 
which he meant it. 

“ All may be well, yet, for both the Sefiorita and me,” 
thought Filly, as she rode back to the lake. “ The war ’s 
over, the General says, — and he surely ought to know. 
Senor is alive, and so is Mr. John, and if the Senorita’s 
letter only reaches him, it will bring him straight back to 
her. Then he ’ll marry her, and take her away to his 
home in the United States. And, so, when Senor comes, 
he ’ll find nobody to fight with — and nobody to marry 
but poor me.” 

And as these happy thoughts took the place of the sad 
ones which had so long possessed her, tears of joy rolled 
down those cheeks, over which, for a long, wretched year, 
only tears of sorrow had found their way. 

When she had nearly reached home, she started from a 
deep reverie over her anticipated happiness, and ex- 
claimed : 

“There now! I forgot to inquire after Mr. Whishton. 
That is too bad ! The Sefiorita will ask me, the first thing, 
how my father is — whether he ’s living or not. I ’m so 
sorry I ever told her that lie, when I first saw her. But, 
then, I could n’t well help it. Well, let it go, now : all ’s 
well that ends well, they say, and everything will soon be 
right with both of us. It ’s lucky for me, though, that I 
happened to find this out ; for, if she had asked me what the 
General said about my father, I should hardly have known, 
at first, what she meant, or who she meant ; and I know I 


406 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


should have blundered so in answering her, that she would 
have suspected me of deceiving her before, and perhaps 
would even have found out all about the matter, and what 
a big lie I told her. But if she asks me now, I can be 
ready with an answer.” 

The Senorita was very well satisfied with what news Filly 
had to tell her ; for meagre though it was, it proved to be 
quite as much and of as good quality as she had any right 
to expect. All that the girl chose to unfold of her budget, 
revealed simply the facts, that the war was over, that her 
so-called father, and the Senorita’s brother and uncle were 
well, and that Mr. King w^as still unscathed, stood high, 
and persistently refused all honors, which, otherwise, would 
have been heaped upon him. 

There was one thing too evidently shown during this 
conversation to escape Filly’s notice, ever alert as she was 
on this one theme : Isabella had not so much as hinted 
that she vrould like to know how Gatewood was, or even 
whether he was alive or not. This, she thought, proved, 
beyond all doubt, what had, all along, been a mooted point 
with her — that King w^as her first choice, and that the 
other was held as a mere reserve, in case of accident. This 
she considered to be exceedingly bad taste on the Seno- 
rita’s part, but exceedingly good fortune for herself. 

As Filly was much fatigued by her long ride, the two 
went to bed early that night. Their sleep was the most 
pleasant they had had for many a long month, in that it 
was deep enough to refresh, and yet richly interspersed 
wdth visions of happy meetings, smooth reconciliations, 
atoning words of sweetness, endearing caresses, blessed 
altars. 

The first sorrow that came to mar this heaven of their 
long-tortured breasts, was caused by Stefanita’s hoarse 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 407 


voice at the door, announcing breakfast. It pained both 
no little to emerge from that fancy-land of elysian delights, 
into real life, although the day seemed to dawn upon them 
with hopes of a joyous future. 

Alas ! it only “ seemed ” so to dawn — that bright, beau- 
tiful, cloudless — treacherous day ! 

And that dream, (for their two dreams were so much 
alike they were as one,) so passing lovely, one might 
almost hope to enter directly the pearly gate on its wing, 
the guarding seraphim thinking the plumage celestial and 
letting one pass in unchallenged: what of thatf Treach- 
erous, too ! 


CHAPTER XLV. 


This business 


Will raise us all. Winter's Tale. 


They say he parted well, and paid his score. — Macheth. 


Tell me what blessings I have here alive, 
That I should fear to die ? Winter's Tale. 


UST before midnight, the two sleepers were roused by 



a thunderous knock at the window of their room, ac- 


companied by a loud calling of their names, and other 
vociferations in Spanish. The voice, as they started up, 
they recognized as Miguel’s, — and immediately knew that, 
coming in the very unnatural guise that it did, it could 
bode them no good. 

Isabella leaped from the bed, and hastily throwing over 
her night-dress her mantilla, ran to the window and 
hoisted it. 

What, in heaven’s name, brought you back with all 


408 MORE THAX SHE COULD BEAR. 

this clamor, Miguel ? ” she demanded, with what calmness 
of voice and manner she could summon. 

• “ Oh, Senorita ! ” 

This was all the man could say, partly from terror, as of 
something that might be coming up behind — for he looked 
nervously back as he uttered the exclamation — and partly 
from the sheer exhaustion of bawling so loud. 

“ Do tell me what is the matter, as soon as you can get 
your heart out of your throat,” cried Isabella, indignant at 
so much craven-heartedness in a man, — for she could see, 
by aid of the moon, that the eyes confronting her were 
stretched to double their ordinary size, from fright, and the 
rest of the countenance proportionately disfigured from the 
same cause. 

“ Oh, Senorita ! ” w’as, a second time, his only reply — 
if reply it could be called. 

At this juncture, a real man, who had been standing close 
to the house and far enough aside from the window to be 
heretofore hidden from Isabella’s view, stepped forward. 
It was plain he had lately been in some terrible conflict ; 
for his clothes were in tatters, his hat was gone, and a very 
bloody bandage was bound about his head. 

“ I suppose, Senorita,” he said, in clear, calm tones, he 
wishes to tell you the patriot army has been terribly beaten 
and all is lost ; for such is the fact.” 

“ Si, Senor, y Senorita ! si ! si ! ” hissed out the old 
Mexican, in his native tongue. 

Here, Stefanita, who had heard the clamor from her bed, 
made her appearance on the scene ; whereupon Miguel fell 
into her arms, and they at once rushed off together, scream- 
ing, weeping, and well-nigh frightened to death. This 
deafening and disgusting nuisance quite out of the way, 
Isabella was on the point of availing herself of the oppor- 
tunity to gather some particulars from the self-possessed 
man before her. 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 409 


“ Why, it’s Mr. Davies!” exclaimed Filly, who had, all 
along, been standing iriside, some distance from the win- 
dow ; but on hearing the voice, and thinking it Davies’s, 
had come up to the Senorjta’s side, and was now peering 
out of the window, at his face, to make quite sure there wa.s 
no mistake. 

^‘Yes, Filly, it’s Davies,” the man replied; and his 
voice, as he said these few words, fell so low, and became 
so sadly compassionate in its tone, that the girl was con- 
vinced, from this alone, that there was awful news for her. 
For Davies must long ago have guessed what relation she 
and Gatewood once occupied towards one another, — and 
she supposed he sought to break the news to her now as 
softly as possible, because it was had news. 

On such occasions, it is not often that we can summon 
up courage at first to put directly the question that is 
nearest our hearts, — ' any more than can the messenger 
himself of the awful tidings bear to pour it all abruptly 
into our ears in one black and crushing sentence. Hence, 
the circumlocution now adopted by all concerned. Filly, 
for her part, shrank from asking anything at all. 

“ When you tell us all is lost, Mr. Davies,” said Isa- 
bella, “ do you mean there was great slaughter in our 
army ? ” 

“Yes, Senorita. We had a battle on the Medina, and 
although a great many of the Mexicans who were of our 
army escaped, it was by running away early in the fight. 
On this account, the Americans had to bear the brunt of 
the struggle, and were nearly all killed, or so badly 
wounded that they could not get away.” 

“ I suppose the wounded who could not get away were 
made prisoners.” 

Isabella said this — but she “supposed ” no such thing; 
for, knowing the Gachupins as thoroughly as she did, it 
35 


410 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


was impossible to do more than hope so, and scarcely so 
much as even that. Therefore, although terribly shocked 
at the reply, it can scarcely be said she was surprised. 

“ No, Senorita — they were butchered where they fell — 
every one of them, I believe.” 

“ God help us. Filly !” she exclaimed, as she fell, weep- 
ing on the girl’s neck, — thinking, as she did so, not only 
of her lover, but likewise of her companion’s father — 
having yet to learn that that father was but a myth, while 
a far dearer than any father, though far less kind, was 
most probably gone from the poor girl forever. 

The brave man outside, despite the hardening life he 
hrad led, was by no means callous to suffering, particularly 
when endured by the gentler sex ; and as the mingled 
wailing of these two heart-broken women pierced his ear, 
it thrilled him to the minutest fibre. Each wild sob smote 
against his manly heart like a ponderous blow ; and the 
glitter of tears might have been seen at that moment in the 
moonlight, as they coursed down his weather-beaten cheek. 

Such an outburst could not endure long: it must needs, 
from very exhaustion, give place to a calmer mood. Soon 
the women unlocked their embrace and gradually released 
their hold on each other, when the younger sank down at 
once upon the floor and lay there prostrate. Isabella 
threw herself on her knees by the window, and folding her 
arms on the sill, bowed her face down upon them. In this 
position she remained for several minutes, in silence, proba- 
bly offering up a prayer, — though God only can know what 
she prayed in her secret heart at that hour of utter inward 
desolation. Let us hope that her petition was granted. 

At length she raised her bowed head and looked out, as 
if to ascertain whether the soldier was still before her. He 
was there ; having lingered on the spot because he knew 
that when the first flood of grief had spent itself, the details 


MOKE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 411 


of the melancholy tidings would be sought by those so 
deeply concerned. So there she found him, his arras folded 
across his broad breast, his eyes cast sadly on the ground,— 
■evidently unwilling to obtrude the stubborn, remorseless 
facts just as they were, yet ready to tell all that should be 
asked of him. 

Seeing that he was still there, she said, with a choking 
voice: 

“ Will you tell me, sir, whether you know Mr. Gatley of 
our army?” 

Instantly, on asking this question, and before he could 
reply, she bowed her head down again on the sill. She 
felt that the words of the man would be as much as she 
could bear, without watching the expression of his face as 
he gave his answer. She could not endure that both eye 
and ear should be so cruelly mangled at once, — well 
knowing that through one of these avenues the dreadful 
tidings, if come they must, would reach soon enough, and 
keenly enough, the sore, shrinking, sensitive heart below. 

Davies, for his part, was very much surprised that she 
should inquire for Gatley, rather than for her brother, or 
Gatewood, to whom it had been pretty well understood 
in Camp Wildwood that she was betrothed. He, however, 
hurriedly conjectured, since there w^as no other conjecture 
left him, that Gatley was her real lover. 

“Yes, Senorita — I knew him very well, indeed,” he re- 
plied, in a soft, low tone, which sounded to her like the 
moaning of a gentle wind around a grave. 

“You knew him — but you do not know him. That is 
enough — that tells the tale — tells me all ! ” 

There was silence for some moments, during wdiich the 
lady still did not raise her head. 

“ He is dead then ? ” she said, at length. “ Why not 
say so? Dead! You are afraid of the dreadful word. 
Speak, sir : is he dead ? ” 


412 MORE THAX SHE COULD BEAR. 

“ Yes — he is dead, Senorita.” 

She did not scream at the “dreadful word,” nor sob, nor 
even stir ; and yet she had not swooned. She only re- 
mained still and silent for a little while, thinking and in-, 
wardly praying by turns. 

“ And my brother ? ” i 

“ He was killed in the battle.” 

There was a brief pause. 

“ And my uncle ? ” 

“ The Padre is in the enemy’s hands.” 

“ God save him ! with such monsters, — that is worse than 
death.” 

Filly had of course heard this conversation, but she had 
heard it in silence. She cared not to ask any questions. 
In fact, she could scarcely have brought herself to do so. 
She felt that if there had been any good news for her, — 
anything about Gatewood exceptional to all this wide- 
spread hopeless gloom, — Davies would long ago have been 
eager to tell her of it : but he had not even so much as 
hinted of such a thing. Feeling quite sure therefore that 
“Senor” was at last beyond her love forever, she cared but 
little what had betided others, or what might yet betide 
herself during the remainder of her blasted life. 

Isabella, however, seemed a trifle more hopeful than this. 
On further thought, she began to catch desperately at any 
little straw that floated past her on this tide of blood. As 
we are fain to do at all times, but particularly when our 
life-long prospects of happiness are menaced, she began to 
feel that she would rather know the exact state of the case 
in all its details, agonizing though they might be, and then 
judge for herself whether or not there was the shadow of a 
hope left. 

“ Mr. Davies,” she said, with this view, in faint, tremu- 
lous tones, still keeping her head bowed down, “ were the 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 413 

friends we have inquired after killed in the battle, or during 
the pursuit? I should be glad if you would tell me more 
fully about it.” 

Davies, assured by this open appeal for facts, and feeling 
that it at least cleared him of the responsibility of torturing 
his hearers by telling them the horrible naked truth, did 
not hesitate to comply. 

“ After nearly all our band,” he began, (“ I mean Captain 
Gatewood’s band,) were down, either dead or mortally 
wounded, the Captain and Wynne and me found ourselves 
surrounded by about twenty of the enemy.” 

At this point, Filly leaped up from the floor, and coming 
forward to the window, kneeled beside Isabella ; and the 
soldier — though not the lady — easily guessed which of 
the words he had spoken was the talisman that drew her 
thither. 

The battle had already been lost ; and the very few 
that were not down with wounds were in full flight, pur- 
sued by the enemy. We three were hemmed in on every 
side, and could n’t have got away if we had tried ; so, we 
stood, back to back, and fought our best. We killed a 
great many of the Gachupins, — but it was soon all over 
with us, for Wynne fell, shot through the head ; then they 
rushed up closer on the Captain and me. He fell next — 
and then I was struck to the ground by a blow on the back 
of the head. I don’t know how long I laid there sense- 
less, — but it was night when I came to. The enemy’s 
camp was so near, I could hear the call of the guard ; and 
as it was moonlight, I had to be cautious in my attempts to 
get away. I crept off as quietly as I could. The dead of 
both sides were scattered around in every direction. There 
were no wounded now ; the enemy had carried theirs oflT — 
and butchered ours, and packs of wolves were howling and 
prowling about, feeding on them, As I crept along among 
35 ^ 


414 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR, 

the bodies, I saw many of my old comrades in arms. Somt 
were lying on their faces : I did n’t recognize these, for I 
was thinking too much then about getting away, to stop and 
turn them over: I had only time to give a glance as I 
slipped along. I shall never forget how John Gatley 
looked. He was lying on his back, with the moon shining 
down directly in his face. He was thought the finest- 
looking man in our army; but I never saw him look 
handsomer than he did then, and I could not help stopping 
to look at him ; it was the only time I stopped. He 
looked so natural that I stooped down to feel if he was not 
still w’arra — but he was cold enough. I raised his head 
a moment from the ground, to take a last look at the 
finest sample of a man I had ever seen — or ever expect 
to see. d'here was a little round bullet-hole right in the 
centre of his forehead. A red streak ran down from it to 
his long hair and soaked it through and through with 
clotted blood. 

“ I did n’t see Captain Delgado after the fight begun ; 
but one of our men that got away told me he saw his 
dead body near the enemy’s intrenchments. I heard the 
Padre was arrested in San Antonio: a citizen that joined 
us in our flight said he saw them taking him to the prison.” 

Surely all this was bad enough. But Isabella’s cup was 
not yet full. 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 415 


CHAPTER XLVI. 

O pardon me I 

I ’ll i>ardon thee : I will shed tears for thee : 

I ’ll wish to die with thee. Heywood. 

About the wood, go swifter than the wind, 

And Helena of Athens look thou find. 

Midsummer NighVs Dream, 

A nd this poor girl’s father — what of hhuT* 

The Senorita receiving no answer to this inquiry, 
raised her head again to ascertain why there was no reply. 
She saw the soldier lying on the ground, just where he had 
been standing but a few moments before. He was so 
nearly worn out by the terrible hardships incident to such 
a protracted and sleepless flight, that as soon as he thought 
his mission was over, he sank down there in his tracks, and 
almost immediately fell into a profound sleep. 

“Oh, Filly!” said the Senorita, turning to the girl, 
“how could you let him stand here so long, and not ask a 
word about your dear father?” 

Filly had often thought lately of making a. clean breast 
of that matter by telling her friend, whom she had so long 
deceived, all about it : so she resolved that now was the 
time to do so. And this was the beginning of the end. 

“ Indeed, Senorita, Whishton was not my father, nor any 
relation of mine. I barely knew him well enough to speak 
if I happened to meet him.” 

“Why, what do you mean?” 

“ I deceived you, Senorita, long ago ; and I ’ve often 
been so ashamed of it, that, more than once, I ’ve been on 
the point of telling you just how it was, and why it was.” 
When Filly first said this, the other shrank a little from 


416 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

her side ; but thinking instantly how very deceitful she 
herself had been, and with what disastrous result, this led 
her on to think how paltry an exercise of charity it would 
be to forgive the same in this poor, friendless, untutored 
girl. So, curbing at once the rising indignation, she 
replied, mildly enough ; 

“Well, my dear, tell me now.” 

“Yes,” said Filly, “it will ease my conscience some- 
what, late as it is; and so I will tell you. I had no 
father in the Texan army, or anywhere else that I know 
of. For anything I can tell, my father may have died 
before I was born.” 

“Then why did you tell me he was still living?” 

“ Why, you remember, Senorita, the very first time I 
saw you, I told you I had been living in the camp.” 

“ Well, was not that true?” asked the lady. 

“ Yes — that much was true. But I had reasons for not 
letting you know exactly how I lived there; and so I told 
you I was Whishton’s daughter, for fear you might think 
me something worse — that I had been kept by some of 
the men, like too many of the women in Camp Wildwood, 
— and that I was no fit company for you.” 

“And have you still those reasons for not telling me 
how. you lived in the camp?” 

Filly, when she began, did not intend going any further 
than this ; and even now, after her friend had propounded 
her question, she was on the point of ending the subject by 
replying simply : 

“ Yes, I still have those reasons ; but I will say, my life 
there was honest and honorable.” 

But she now, rather suddenly, came to the conclusion 
that she could be better contented for the rest of her 
days — that it would relieve a little of the remorse which 
lielped so materially to swell her misery — if she should 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 417 


confess to the Senorita the fatal blunder she had made in 
placing Gatewood’s letter in his rival’s hands : and in order to 
extenuate the act she must of course tell her of her own re- 
lations with that Chief. All which she now resolved to do. 

As may well be imagined, Isabella, up to this point, had 
taken little heart-felt interest in the conversation. She 
had in fact kept it up, so far as she was concerned, only by 
considerable effort, and merely because she thought the 
girl seemed, for some reason unknown to her, very much 
interested herself. During the whole time of its pro- 
gress her own thoughts were flying off to other things, and 
were brought back to the subject only by force. But 
henceforth to the end it was not so. 

The girl having made up her mind to a full confession, 
instead of the affirmative reply which she had at first in- 
tended making, began with a negative : 

“ No,” she said — “ those reasons no longer exist, espe- 
cially as my life there was a virtuous one ; and I think I 
shall feel better if I tell you all about it — and other 
things besides. I lived with Captain Gatewood in the 
camp ; but when — ” 

Isabella looked around at her with surprise. 

“You mean that you — why. Filly, you just now told 
me your life while in camp was a virtuous one.” 

“And so it was, Senorita: only hear me. Captain 
Gatewood rescued me from the Indians when I was a little 
thing. I have always thanked him more for it than if he 
had saved my life ; for no one can imagine the misery that 
he saved me from.” 

“Oh, yes — ^^I understand it now: he adopted you, as 
his child — being childless himself — and you have ever 
since regarded him as you would your father, had you ever 
known your father.” 

“No — not exactly that either, Sefiorita : I’ll tell you 


418 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


about that and all the rest presently. When he rescued 
me, I could speak no language but such a jargon as the 
savages spoke. Senor — as I always called him — not only 
taught me his native language, but how to read and write ; 
and, now I look back at it, it must have given him a great 
deal of trouble, considering his habits and the kind of life 
he was leading all the time. But when he found I was 
anxious to learn and tried my best to do so, he always 
seemed glad to teach me, and never once got out of patience 
with me. But, then, Senorita, he was always kind and 
gentle with me — and never spoke a harsh word all the 
time.” 

Here the girl, as she thought of those bright, fresh, 
happy, hopeful days, and then thought of the mangled, 
lifeless form that lay unburied and rotting, or torn by 
wolves, on the far-off banks of the Medina, broke down in 
her story, and had to stop for a while. But after wiping 
away the tears that fell fast over her burning cheeks, and 
bracing herself for the task, she was able to resume. 

“He had a separate tent pitched for me near his own, 
and another, alongside of mine, for Mrs. Davies — the wife 
of that poor soldier there — who waited on me and always 
attended to me faithfully and kindly. Then, when I grew 
to be a woman, he had this house built and furnished for 
me to live in.” 

“ For you to live in, here by yourself? ” interrupted Isa- 
bella. “ Or were you to marry one of his men ? ” she added, 
as she recollected the blush that once came to the girl’s 
cheek when speaking of “ one of the men.” 

“ Oh, no — Senorita : I was to ^arry Aim.” 

“ It is n’t possible that you were to be married to Captain 
Gatewood ? ” 

“Yes, Senorita : we were to be married, and come to live 
here, the very day after he rescued you from those Span- 
iards.” 


MORE THAN SHE COTJLD BEAK. 419 


“ And you loved him ? ” 

“I had loved him for a long time — young as I was. 
And how much I loved him, Senorita, no one can tell ! ” 

“ Oh, you poor dear child ! why did you not tell me this 
long ago ? ” 

“ Why should I tell you, Senorita?” 

“ Because — But I forgot that you did not know — ” 

/‘I know a great deal more about it than you think, 
Senorita,” said the girl, on perceiving her friend’s hesitation. 
“ But still I may not know all.” 

What do you know. Filly?” 

“I know that you and Senor were engaged to be 
married.” 

“And, pray, how did you find that out?” 

“I heard the rumor, and I came here on purpose to 
learn the truth of it.” 

“ And how did you find out the truth at last ? ” 

“ I saw a letter he wrote to you.” 

“You saw a letter that Captain — ? You mean, you 
saw the address on the outside ? ” 

“ No, Senorita. Oh ! if you but knew the misery of my 
suspense — not knowing whether all hope was gone — you 
would pardon me, I know, for what I did then.” 

“Oh, yes — Filly; I have been too wicked myself not to 
forgive everything you may have done.” 

“ I found the letter lying open on the floor,” said the 
girl, “ the very day you met with Mr. John. I saw that it 
was in Senor’s writing ; and I almost knew, if I read it, 
I ’d find out at once what I had been trying to learn for so 
long.” 

“And, so, you read it. Well, that was not altogether 
right, to be sure ; but I don’t blame you half as much for 
it, as I do for not telling me, when you first came here, of 
your relations with Captain Gatewood. Oh, Filly ! if you 


420 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

had only told me^^ejithat he was your betrothed, and that 
this was your house, all this wretchedness might have been 
spared us both.” 

i “ But,” said the girl, “Sefior was gone then, and it could 
have done no good — it would have been too late.” 

“ Yes, it would have done good : it would not have been 
too late. For had I known that, I should have married 
the only man I ever loved, instead of putting him off, ^o 
that he never came back — and now, alas! never can come 
back.” 

Ah, how fondly prone are we to talk of what might have 
been ! 

“ And, why did you hesitate about marrying him, Seno- 
rita, even as it was ? ” 

“Filly, it is much too long and sad a story for me to tell 
you all of it. But I will say this much : that I engaged 
myself to Captain Gatewood, not because I loved him ^ — 
for I never loved him — but because I thought him indis- 
pensable to our cause, and this was the only way I could 
win him to espouse it. I promised to marry him, should 
we prove successful, but not otherwise. I then thought my 
lover had long been dead; but I met him at last, and 
you must see in what a dilemma that placed me. Had I 
married Carlos and gone with him to Nacogdoches, as he 
wished me to do. Captain Gatewood must have heard of it, 
and would have withdrawn from the army with his whole 
command.” 

“ Suppose I had told you, Sendrita, what would you have 
done thenf” 

“ Why, Filly, I should immediately have dispatched 
Captain Gatewood a note — for he was not then beyond 
my reach — telling him, that by his treatment of you he 
had forfeited every right to my hand, — and, but that he 
had placed my family and myself under such deep obliga- 


MOKE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 421 


tions to him by our rescue, he would likewise have for- 
feited my acquaintance, and — but for that, too — I should 
have hoped never to see him again.” 

“Would you, indeed, have done so, Sefiorita?” 

“I should, despite the risk of its estranging from the 
cause himself and every man of his command : nay, had I 
been certain it would have provoked him even to take up 
arras on the other side. Of course I should. Why, justice 
to you. Filly, no less than respect for myself, would have 
demanded that I should do so, — and nothing on earth 
could have prevented me.” 

Nothing more was said for several minutes, and each 
went off into a painful reverie : (alas ! must not all their 
reveries be painful henceforth ?) The burden of Filly’s 
was, “ Then, all would have been right. How I wish I 
had told her!” The burden of the Senorita’s was, “Oh, if 
Carlos had only returned to hear my explanation, this 
could never have been ! ” 

But the gir. had not yet told the worst. And had she 
foreseen the effect of the telling, this last mortal arrow had 
never been sped. Now, however, that she had commenced 
unbosoming herself to her friend, she resolved to go on to 
the end and leave nothing hid. After deceiving her so 
long and so grossly, it was but right, she thought, that she 
should wholly undeceive her ere the subject should be dis- 
missed, perchance forever. 

She began by asking a question. 

“Sefiorita, if Mr. John had come back to see you that 
evening, would you have agreed to marry him ? ” 

“Yes — I had fully made up my mind to do so, if he 
still thought it best, as he did at our meeting. Oh, yes — 
there is no doubt our marriage w'ould have taken place — 
here, if we could have secured a priest’s services — if not, 
then, at Nacogdoches.” 

30 


422 MOKE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

“ But Senor would have heard of it ; and that, you say, 
would have broken up the expedition.” 

“ So it would. But, my dear child, think how much 
better it would have been for all in the end. Though I 
should have lost my home and my country, I should have 
had my lover, his home, and his country. But, alas ! I 
have now no country, no home, no lover! Yours, too, 
would probably have returned to make you happy. So 
you see, whatever it was which prevented Carlos from filling 
his tryst, it has made a round of ruin for us all. Oh, if he 
had but returned for a single moment, even to fling scorn 
in my face, on ray knees I would have pleaded for his for- 
giveness, — and I doubt not he would have granted it. 
But as this cannot be — can never be — it seems now, that 
if I could only know what that mysterious something was 
which kept him away, after parting so tenderly, and vow- 
ing that he would return to me, even that would give me 
some relief.” 

“ Do you really think,” asked Filly, calmly, “ it would give 
you the least bit of comfort in the world to know that ? ” 

“Yes — and for the simple reason, that, whatever it may 
have been, it could not possibly be worse than some of my 
misgivings and conjectures on the subject.” 

“ I can tell you what it was, Senorita.” 

“Then tell me, for the love of God I Was it anything 
dreadful ? ” 

“Oh, no, I reckon not. Yes, it was, too, — for it was 
dreadful in me to do what I did.” 

“ You surely did n’t cause that f ” 

“ I fear I did, Senorita. But I hope you ’ll forgive me 
for that, too, as you have already forgiven me for reading 
that letter. And I almost know you will, for that was a 
selfish act on my part, while this one was done in a friendly 
spirit, though it ended so badly. I thought it would not 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


423 


only bring him back to you, but that it would be certain 
to lead to your marriage ; and then Sefior would marry 
me. Oh, I little dreamed it would drive him away from 
you forever, and ruin both him and us ! ” 

“ Don’t talk in that strain any longer, Filly : it puzzles 
me, and worries me so ! Do tell me at once what it was, 
and relieve my suspense.” 

"‘Well, I will tell you, though I hate to do it. You 
may recollect that, on the morning of the day he had 
promised to return, I told you I was going to take a ride.” 
“Yes — I remember it perfectly.” 

“ Well, I went to the camp, and — ” - 
“ What did you do at the camp. Filly ? ” 

“ Gave Mr. John that letter which you have just par- 
doned me for reading myself.” 

The shock from this piece of news was much more sudden 
to Isabella than it might otherwise have been, from the 
fact that, when the girl had told her a few minutes before, 
that she had read the letter, she had — though with some 
effort then —recalled its contents, and had imagined, as in- 
deed she invariably did, whenever she thought of the hor- 
rid letter at all, “ How dreadful it would be if Carlos 
should ever come to know what it contained ! ” 

Now, however, from having just been conned over, every 
word came up again in an instant, freshly and vividly to her 
mind, — insomuch, indeed, that the mere naming of the 
letter in connection with hia dear name would have made 
her shudder. How sudden then — how terrible — how 
crushing — came the knowledge that, for the last long year, 
through hardships and dangers, incurred, too, not for his 
own, but for her country’s freedom, her lover must have 
been cursing her in that heart of hearts, where she had 
been, before, so long and so faithfully enshrined as some- 
thing altogether too pure for this lower world. That, it 
was which had driven him away from her forever! 


424 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


Yet she uttered not a single word — did nothing whatever 
that could hint of the fearful commotion within, which was 
even then stirring, lacerating, and breaking up the fountains 
of her spiritual no less than of her physical life. She simply 
leaned her head again on the sill, — as one might do, at 
almost any time, to relieve a slight w^eariness, — and there 
allowed it to remain like a passive weight that was no part 
of her most impassioned self — calm, motionless, wordless. 

The girl was greatly surprised at this apparent compo- 
sure. She had expected an outbreak either of grief, or of 
indignation, and was only w^ondering of what intensity it 
would be when it should come — whether she herself would 
have to dissolve in sympathy wdth the one, or be driven 
from her presence by the other. 

Filly having told her w^hole story, had no more to say; 
and as her friend did not speak, a deep silence prevailed in 
the moon-lighted room. Presently this grew to be painful, 
and the girl, beginning to think it, in some way, boded ill, 
resolved to break it and meet the risk. 

“ Oh, Senorita ! speak, for God’s sake ! say either that 
you hate me, or forgive me ! ” 

She said this in a very low tone, and as she did so, 
placed her arm gently about Isabella’s waist and bowed 
her head close to hers on the sill, until her breath came 
warm against the other’s cheek. 

If that embrace had been an adder’s coil — that breath 
an adder’s hiss — the kneeling woman could not have 
sprung more quickly away from their pollution, and 
rushed from the room. 

Filly, — utterly overcome by these manifestations of 
loathing towards her, from one whom she sincerely loved, 
and had, at the very worst, but unwittingly injured, — in- 
stead of following her, rose from the window and took 
refuge in her bed ; where, for a long while, she gave her- 


^rORE TITAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


425 


self up to alternate thinking and weeping. Poor girl, how 
could she, forest-reared as she was, be expected to compre- 
hend the awful extent of her offending? As the hours 
dragged by and the Senorita did not return, she began to 
wonder what could have become of her, — and from won- 
dering, she at length grew anxious lest something untoward 
might have befallen her. 

Under this disquieting impression, she resolved to make 
such search as the unfavorable hour would permit; and 
after hurriedly dressing herself, went forth for this pur- 
pose. As she passed the door of the only other room 
of the small house, she opened it and glanced in. As 
it was lighted up by the moon, she could see, without 
entering, that there was no one within. So she passed on 
and continued the search about the premises — where she 
was joined by Grim — and along under the nearest trees. 
She then hastened down to the lake-shore and walked 
some distance along the beach, hoping to find her sitting 
there, where she had often loved to sit and muse, the while 
looking out over the water. But she was nowhere to be 
seen. 

She next made her way to the tent of the old Mexican 
couple, who, on hearing her call, were of course frightened 
well-nigh out of any wits they may be supposed to have 
had left, thinking, no doubt, that the whole Gachupln 
host was upon them. She had not been there. 

By this time Filly was seriously alarmed for her friend 
— or hostess, rather, since it seemed she no longer wished 
to be considered her friend. Her next step was to appeal 
to Grim. But, although he evidently saw that something 
was wrong and seemed to have a vague conception of what 
was required of him, yet, for once, he was too much be- 
fogged to be of any real service, and merely followed at his 
mistress’s heels, — his usually unexpressive face, how- 
; 5 (*, * 


426 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

ever, full of anxiety all the while about a matter for which 
he knew himself not qualified. 

In this emergency, her only resource seemed to be in 
Davies ; and although she w'as very loth to disturb him, 
worn out and wounded as he was, she soon decided that 
the urgency of the case demanded it, and resolved to enlist, 
without further delay, his valuable services in the search ; 
for she well knew him to be one of the cleverest in wood- 
craft that could anywhere be found. 

It was no such easy matter to wake him as it had been 
in the case of his nervous neighbors of the tent. Having 
fallen asleep entertaining a view of “the situation” entirely 
different from Mr. and Mrs. Miguel, he was by no means 
alarmed, or even startled at the sound of his own name. 
On the contrary, he seemed rather lulled than otherwise by 
the soft tones of the girl’s voice in his ear ; at any rate, she 
appeared to fancy that he did, for she soon abandoned 
calling, and substituted a vigorous shake. This had at 
once the effect of thoroughly arousing him ; for, in the case 
of a soldier, a gripe may prove too serious a matter not to 
be instantly looked to. On seeing whose touch it was, he 
sprang up from the ground and addressed himself to list- 
ening intently to her words. 

“ Mr. Davies,” she said, excitedly, “ the Senorita has left 
the house — and I can’t find her anywhere.” 

“ What could she have left the house for. Filly, at this 
time of night ? ” 

“ I don’t know' — unless her grief W'as more than she 
could bear, and she hardly knew what she was doing.” 

“ That might well be,” said the soldier, sadly. “ How 
long has she been gone, Filly?” 

“ About half an hour.” 

“Where have you looked for her?” 

Filly told him where. 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 427 


Davies at once turned towards the woods, calling on 
Grim to follow. The dog hesitated probably about the 
propriety of leaving his mistress alone, at night, while she 
was not inside a house or tent. At any rate he cast an 
inquiring glance at her. 

“Go along with Mr. Davies, Grim,” she said, in a tone 
half of persuasion and half of command — a tone Phich 
never failed, coming from her, to prove quite irresistible to 
Grim. So he lost no time in transferring himself to the 
immediate rear of the soldier’s heels, — where he closely 
stuck until both were out of sight. 

“Mr. Davies,” said Filly, when he had gone a few 
strides, “might n’t Miguel be of some use in searching?” 

The soldier halted to make reply. 

“You could n’t get him ten feet into the woods, to-night, 
to save all the Senoritas in Mexico. But if you could get 
him there, and he was to hear an owl, or see a lightning- 
bug, he ’d run back to you with all his might, and swear — 
if he had any breath left to do it with — that ten thousand 
Spaniards were charging on the house.” 

Filly did n’t insist. And the soldier having vented his 
indignation against cowardice, (personified,) and no doubt 
feeling the better for it, sped away with his four-footed 
ally, and disappeared among the shadows of the trees. 

Filly had no rest during the remainder of the night, — 
nor, to say truth, did she desire any. She was too anxious 
for the lone wanderer, whom her unintentionally cruel 
words had driven forth to fare and to habit with howling 
beasts. She roamed about in the vicinity of the house, 
peering as far as she could into the gloomy openings of the 
surrounding forest, with a faint hope that the Senorita 
might be descried there, returning, of her own accord, to 
the shelter of that roof which, the other began now to fear, 
she had left because it was not her own — and worse — 


428 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


because she had reminded her of the fact that it was not 
her own. 

“ She perhaps thinks/’ cried the girl, in remorseful an- 
guish, “ that I told her this was my house, for the very 
purpose of driving her out of it ! ” 

It was high noon before Davies returned ; and then he 
brought neither the Senorita nor any tidings of her. No 
print of her footsteps had he found, nor any clue even of 
the direction she had taken. He was an adept in wood- 
craft — versed in all the signs of the passage of animals 
through these tangled mazes, even to the turning of a dead 
leaf, or the ruffling of a flower, — but of her, there was to 
be found no more trace than if her disembodied spirit had 
gone forth, leaving the flesh behind. 

Tarrying only long enough to get something to eat, he 
set out again, assisted, this time, — besides Grim, — by 
Miguel, to whom he assigned a certain area for his special 
search. The Mexican seemed quite like himself again, now 
that the weird shadows of night had given place to day. 

Toward nightfall they returned with no better success 
than Davies had had in the morning. Every day the 
search was renewed, but always in vain. All hope of 
finding her gradually died away ; so that, at the end of a 
week, they gave her up; and Davies, very naturally, 
thinking it high time he should report himself to his wife, 
in Natchitoches, that she might at least know he was still 
ill the land of the living, took his departure from the lake. 

Before leaving, however. Filly made him promise that 
he would bring his wife — and his mother, too, if he could 
prevail on her to leave her present home — to live here 
with her. The girl hated the town, merely because it was 
a town ; while, on the other hand, she loved the lake, de- 
spite all the unpleasant associations connected with it, 
better than any other spot in the world ; and was resolved 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 429 

to make her future home in this house, which had been 
built and fitted up for her by one whom she still fondly 
and devotedly loved — cruel though he had been to her — 
dead though he now was, — and had died, too, for another. 


CHAPTER XL VII. 


Why dost thou thus appear to me ? 


The Witch of Edmonton. 
Are you sure 


That we are awake ? It seems to me 
That yet we sleep, we dream. 

Midsummer-Night* 8 Dream, 

In thy sullied eyes 
I read a tragic story. — Rowley. 


HAT night, about the same hour at which the Seno- 



_L rita had disappeared a week before. Filly was awak- 
ened, or dreamed she was awakened — she could not for her 
life tell which — from a sound sleep, by hearing her name 
called. On opening her eyes, she found a figure leaning 
over her, presenting, as well as she could judge by aid 
of such imperfect light as the moon shed on the chamber- 
floor, every appearance of being the Senorita herself. 

The girl was of course startled. At first, she thought it 
all a dream ; and so thinking, vainly tried to shake it off. 
She then put forth her hand and laid it on the one which 
was resting on the bed beside her. 

“ It ’s genuine flesh,” thought she, “ warmed by genuine 
blood — such as never come to us in dreams.” 

“ It ’s your friend. Filly : there ’s no need to doubt it.” 

The girl instantly recognized the voice — failing, by rea- 


430 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


son of her excitement, to observe the very marked change 
that had come into it. 

“ God bless you, Senorita ! ” she exclaimed, springing 
up, throwing her arms around her friend’s neck, and kiss- 
ing her several times. “ You Ve come at last ! I was so 
afraid you had left me altogether. Where in the world 
have you been ? ” 

“ Oh, never mind about that.” 

“ But you ’ll never leave me again, Senorita, will you ? ” 
asked Filly, pleadingly. 

“ Only once more.” 

“And you’ll forgive me — won’t you? I did n’t mean 
to do you, or Mm either, any harm, — indeed I did n’t.” 

“ Never mind about that either. Filly. Never let us talk 
again about anything that ’s past, or anything to come.” 

“ What, then, shall we talk about, Senorita ? ” asked the 
girl, yielding instantly — (penitence makes us so very 
pliant!) 

“ The present,” was the only answer. 

“ Well, Senorita, — what of the present ? ” 

“Why, I ’ve taken a sudden fancy to go to the lake — 
and you know I can’t row. I want you to row me out to 
where those little islands are.” 

“ To be sure I will do so, Senorita,” replied Filly, start- 
ing up at once and commencing to put on her clothes, — 
though, at the same time, thinking this about the strangest 
midnight freak she had ever heard of. Her extreme anx- 
iety, however, to gratify any wish of the Senorita, with the 
hope of thus thoroughly conciliating her, after having been so 
rude as to drive her away, was quite sufRcient to account 
for the alacrity with which she complied with the strange 
proposition, demanding not the why and wherefore. 

The night was a lovely one, and as they walked along 
beneath the trees, in silence, to the shore, noiselessly tram- 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 431 


pliRg the checkered light and shadow under their feet, that 
impression of dreaminess, which such a scene invariably 
imparts to us, came over the girl in such force, that, for the 
second time to-night, she could scarcely think herself awake. 

When they had descended to the smooth beach, by a 
flight of steps cut in the earth, Isabella, stooping down 
just where the bluff* joined the sands, thrust her hand under 
the bank, to the full length of her arm, and drew forth 
something which, from the repeated failures she made in 
trying to raise it after it was dragged from its hiding-place, 
seemed to be unusually heavy for its bulk, which was but 
small. 

“ Here is something for you. Filly,’’ she said, as she held 
it out towards the girl in both hands. 

“ What in the world is this, Senorita ? ” asked the other, 
as soon as she took hold of it, and felt its weight. 

Only just a little present from me. It may be of use 
to you, some day.” 

“ Why,” said Filly, “ it ’s heavy enough for gold.” 

“ That ’s just what it is.” 

“Gold?” exclaimed Filly. “Why do you give me all 
this gold ? I don’t want it : keep it, Senorita, for yourself.” 

“Oh, I have plenty besides : more than I know what to 
do with.” 

Filly, wishing, of all things, to avoid giving any further 
oflTence, however trivial, determined that she would, for the 
time at least, accept this singular present, so capriciously 
bestowed. 

“ But why,” she asked, “ did n’t you wait till we came 
back?” 

“ Well, I just happened to think of it as we were passing 
the spot.” 

“ But what shall I do with it now — I mean, until we 
return ?” 


432 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


“You can leave it here, if you choose, — or you can take 
it along. It is a belt, and you can fasten it about your 
waist, if you prefer it.” 

“ So it is. Why, yes — that will be much the handiest 
way.” 

And she adjusted it accordingly. 

They got into the boat; and while Isabella sat down 
near the bow, her companion took up an oar, and stepping 
to the stern, so as to have the assistance of her own weight 
in getting it off, gave a vigorous push against the hard bot- 
tom of the lake, and they were at once afloat. 

Grim had followed them to the boat; and when they 
got in, he attempted to enter also, unbidden — something 
very unusual with him, for never had dog less presump- 
tion. On an adverse motion from his mistress, however, 
he desisted, and laid himself down at the water’s edge, head 
erect, to watch their proceedings, showing no signs of dis- 
appointment; though a little uneasiness manifested itself 
in a whispered whining which he set up, equivalent, in the 
matter of feeling, to the downright howl of any other dog. 

Filly now seated herself about midway in the boat, and 
taking up the other oar, pulled slowly and evenly, and 
they glided out smoothly enough toward the middle of the 
lake. 

The feeling that all this was a dream, still clung to the 
girl. Nay, the more she thought of it, the less was she 
impressed with its reality. The being awakened in the 
middle of the night by an apparition, and summoned to 
follow forth amid weird and fantastic scenery, that looked 
like the work of some magician’s spell. The old trick of 
finding a large sum of gold, so common in dream-land and 
fairy-tales, so rare anywhere else. The skimming along so 
noiselessly on the smooth water, surrounded on all sides by 
such scenes as enchantment loves so well to call up: — all 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 433 


tliis seemed so unreal, that Filly was ready to exclaim, at 
almost any moment after she left the beach, up to the very 
last, “ It is a dream — ^ I know it is ! ” But her lips were 
sealed as by a spell. She thought of trying some plan to 
wake* herself, which, however, ended in her thinking, “Oh, 
no — let it go on so : I ’ll wake soon enough to something 
worse than this ! ” Thus it was that to the very end she 
could not realize what she both saw and felt : for so far 
from contradicting the view she had taken — or rather, the 
view that had forced itself upon her — everything con- 
spired to confirm it, more and more, from this time forth. 
Indeed, I hold it by no means impossible that we may even 
die, thinking death itself all a dream. And surely this 
was as fitting a time, and these were as fitting surroundings 
for such a death-dream as could well be brought about. 

It was such a night, for loveliness, as is rarely seen. 
There was nowhere any sign of a breeze. The leaves hung 
absolutely motionless on their boughs. A few fleecy 
clouds, motionless too, flecked the sky above, pleasantly 
relieving the otherwise unbroken blue. The surface of the 
lake was of glassy smoothness, save where a flock of wild 
ducks, roused from their sleep, drew out their heads from 
under their wings, and seeing the approaching boat, pad- 
died themselves out of its course ; or save where the drip- 
ping oar, or the gliding prow, turned off* a miniature wave, 
that flashed an instant in the moonlight and then went 
careering gracefully away, in still widening but gradually 
dying ripples. 

Beyond the narrow area of this slight commotion the 
moon, and starry clusters, and the little clouds were 
imaged as clear and distinct as their substance appeared 
above; while two conspicuous twin-stars of almost equal 
size and glory, and very near each other, were just disap- 
pearing behind the western trees. 

37 


434 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


How sadly would these palpable beauties have contrasted 
the invisible freight of misery that was now obtruding 
itself into their midst, could this have been seen, as such, 
by the physical eye. It would have seemed not unlike a 
hell-smirch on an angel’s cheek. The very mocking-birds 
appeared to feel its marring influence. They had all along 
been singing merrily enough, as they are wont to do in 
that balmy clime, so long as the moon is abroad. But 
when the woe-laden boat swept across that elysian scene, 
those gay songsters were awed into instant silence; and 
although a solitary one out of all the tuneful host ven- 
tured presently to break forth again into song, his song 
'was no longer as it had been. For he now left his perch 
in the cheerful brake, and burying himself in the gloomy 
boughs of a cypress, chanted a song of such tristful sort as 
no bird before or since ever poured forth. One might 
think it would have broken the heart that gave it birth — 
even though a bird’s. 

Beaching the vicinity of the islands, the Senorita made a 
sign to Filly to stop. The girl had not yet had a good view 
of her friend’s face. While the two were yet in the house, 
and during their walking forth beneath the trees to the 
shore, there was but little light ; and before they had gone 
far enough on the water to be fairly beyond the skirting 
shadows. Filly, in order to row to advantage, had necessarily 
seated herself with her, face to the stern, and her back to 
Isabella, who sat near the bow. Now, however, when they 
stopped, the girl, after shipping the oars, shifted her posi- 
tion, so as to sit facing the Senorita, and very near her. 
The moon was shining full on her face. 

Filly was so shocked at the change in both feature and 
expression, that she almost screamed out at the sight of 
that wasted, worn, ghostly-white face — that hair wildly 
tangled — those sunken cheeks — those hollow eyes. And 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 


435 


it was well, perhaps, there was not light enough to show her, 
to the full, the strange expression of those eyes. Her man- 
tilla, still wrapped about her and fastened over her bosom, 
was much torn, — as was also such of her embroidered 
night-dress as showed below it, about her feet. 

After the first shock was over. Filly, as she continued to 
look on this pitiable sight, was so moved that she burst 
into tears, the Senorita, all the while, sitting calm and 
apparently unmoved. She may have been listening to th-at 
melancholy bird, — for he was still singing. Neither spoke 
a word, had not spoken since they left the shore. Why 
the lady chose to remain so silent may well be left to the 
reader’s imagination. The girl for her part could think 
of nothing to say. What, indeed, could she have said — 
could any one have said — that had not been far better 
withheld ? Could any words of hers have availed to lift 
a feather’s weight from the utterly crushed woman before 
her? A voice less than divine would have been worse 
than mockery. 

At length the Senorita, unpinning her mantilla, pushed 
it back from her snow-white, emaciated shoulders, and it 
fell into the bottom of the boat. 

“ Do you hear that bird ? ” she said. “ He must be sing- 
ing somebody’s death-dirge.” 

Poor Filly’s heart was too full to answer this simple re- 
mark, even had it required to be answered. 

As Isabella said this, she rose, and looked down for a 
moment into the water. As she did so, a slight shudder 
struck through her frame. And now, for the first time, the 
dreadful truth with regard to her friend flashed upon 
Filly, — and immediately after, a dreadful thought with 
regard to herself, as she too rose from her seat. 

“ There ! the bird has ceased. How suddenly ! Don’t 
you suppose he ’s dead ? that song was" enough to kill 
him.” 


436 MORE THAN SHE COUI/D BEAR. 

As Isabella said this, she took her eyes from the wave, 
and instead of directing them upon her companion to w hom 
she was speaking, as one might suppose she w^ould, threw a 
glance aloft on the spangled sky, and for a few moments 
looked as intently at its twdnkling orbs and into its blue 
depths, as though she knew it would be her last look. 

“ See those two stars just setting ! ” she said. “ But w’hy 
should there be more than one ? ” 

The girl, as before, made no reply : though she might 
well have done so, for she saw clearly enough, so far as 
reading the future in those stars was concerned, why 
“more than one” should be just then trembling on the 
horizon. 

“ Farewell, Filly,” said the Senorita, opening her arins. 

Then followed a long and lingering embrace. “ Long 
and lingering,” indeed, it was ! 

“ There ! let me go now. Filly I ” 

“ Never ! ” 

“ Then, you will have to go with me.” 

“ Yes — yes ! ” 

They gradually leaned further and further over the side 
of the boat, until it glided away from under them, when 
they fell, together, into their wide, wild grave, with a 
heavy plunge. The w’ater once closed over them, there 
•was no coming to the surface, now, nor ever again : the 
weight of the gold bore them at once to the bottom, where 
they remained. 

At the sound of that sullen plunge, many a bird started 
from its perch and fluttered about the brake in wild alarm. 
Many a wild duck rose from the water, and on whistling 
wings, sought refuge at the remotest end of the lake. One 
after another, a few clusters of bubbles came to the surface, 
were rudely tossed about for a while on the still agitated 
water, then, one by one, burst into nothingness, — typifying 


MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 437 


well the brief, stormy, fruitless life, and the sudden death, 
of those below. 

All this was but fairly over, when there rose from the 
shore, just where the boat had started forth, the long-drawn 
howl of a dog, — so piteous that Death himself, could he 
have fore-heard it, might have withheld the dart, just sped, 
which called it forth. Then there was a plunge from the 
beach out into the water — and all was still as before. 


CHAPTER THE LAST. 


This is that face, thou cruel Angelo ! 

Which once thou swor’st was worth the looking on ; 
This is the hand which, with a vow’d contract. 

Was fast belock’d in thine. Pleasure for Measure. 


If you can bring 


Tincture, or lustre, in her lip, her eye. 

Heat outwardly, or breath within, I ’ll serve you 
As I would do the gods. Winter’s Tale, 


N hour later, a man of stalwart form, his clothes torn 



into rags, his face haggard, one of his arms carried in 
a sling, and much disabled in one of his legs, limped forth 
from the deep shadow of the woods by the lake and made 
hi^ way towards the house. He paused before the door, 
and seemed to hesitate a moment whether he should 
enter. The mournful howl, which still went up at inter- 
vals from about that watery grave, may have caught his 
ear, — for, instead of going into the house, as he had prob- 
ably intended, he walked around it and sought the shore 
of the lake, glancing at the empty hammock as he passed 


along. 


438 MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR. 

He found the boat drifting near the beach ; and wading 
out to it, he took up the mantilla which lay in the bottom. 

“ It’s hers ! ” he said, in a hoarse whisper. 

That howl rent again the still air. It came from among 
the group of islands. Stepping into the boat, the man took 
up an oar and sculled off in that direction — for, with but 
one arm, he could not row. 

“ Grim ! is it you ? ” he said, as he reached one of the 
islands. ‘‘You have found your voice too late, I fear, old 
dog ! Get in here, and show me where it is : I know it ’s 
somewhere near.” 

The dog got into the boat ; and looked, and continued to 
look, intently over the side, down into the clear, shallow 
water, while the man sculled around so slowly and smoothly 
as scarcely to stir the surface in the slightest degree. Pres- 
ently the dog began to howl most piteously, with his eyes 
steadily fixed on one particular point at the bottom of the 
lake. The man laid by his oar, and creeping up to the 
dog’s side, looked down, too, at the mysterious object. 

He looked not long ! Up from that liquid crystal, illu- 
mined by the moon almost to the brightness of day, had 
come to his eye a spectacle he well might shrink from — 
the beautiful, sad face of a heart-broken girl. The wide- 
open eyes were looking directly up into his, and he could 
not endure the sight, although he knew she was dead : nay, 
because he knew she was dead — for he also knew he was 
her murderer. • 

He saw, too, another figure clasped in her arms, but the 
face was turned towards the bottom, and he had to guess 
whose it was. But he could not guess amiss. 

With a cold shudder, he rushed away ; and regaining 
the oar which he had dropped, was, the next moment, 
gliding shoreward with all the speed he could make. 

Ah, cruel man ! so far as love alone was concerned, you 


MORE THAK SHE COULD BEAR. 439 

might have lightly forgotten that sweet, sad face. But by 
that one glance, remorse will hold it up to your memory 
for ever and ever ! 

Yet severe as was this shock, still another awaited him. 
In repassing the house — on his way, he scarcely knew 
whither — he recoiled from entering where he could hope 
for nothing better than tormenting associations and elo- 
quent reminders of more hopeful days. But on catching 
sight of a small white object lying on the ground close be- 
side the window of the Senorita^s room, an irresistible im- 
pulse to see what it was, and whether it gave any clue to 
this tragic mystery, yet only half solved, drew him a step 
or two out of his way to secure it. 

He found that it was a letter ; but as to who had penned 
it, to whom it was addressed, or of what it treated, the 
present darkness kept him in blissful ignorance. When, 
however, the morning shall break upon him, stretched — 
somewhere, he knows not yet whereabouts in the forest it 
may be — on his wild bivouac of leaves, tortured in mind, 
and wrecked in hope, he can then read it at his leisure, and 
wdth what comfort he may. 

He will find it to be the Senorita’s letter, intended for 
the man she really loved, whom it never reached. It had 
been handed back, by Miguel, mechanically, to the writer, 
on the night when the disastrous news reached the lake, and 
probably laid by her on the sill ; whence the wind had 
blown it to the ground. While it will tell him all, and 
add humiliation to his other pangs, it will by no means 
soothe his rankling remorse ; for, as he already knows that 
she whom he deserted was all his own, he will learn from 
this missive, that she for whom he deserted her was all 
another’s. 


THE END. 


















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